Seduction Theory
by ShadowBlazer
Summary: Samantha Traynor thought she'd figured out the general formula for getting a girl. Step one: Lure her in. Step two: She's not sure. Something exciting happens. Step three: Success! So, why is Shepard not cooperating with her plans? Not related to Freud's theory. Very not related.
1. Starting Points

**Author's Notes:** I was writing a long, dramatic story about my Shepard's origins, got writer's block, and decided to try out this idea that's been bouncing around my head for a while. Someone a while back hoped for an relatively exclusive Shepard/Traynor relationship in one of my stories. So... close enough.

For this story, I'm just writing by the seat of my pants and seeing where it leads from there. I'm also taking a leaf out of Midnight Lion's _Pressure_ and write relatively short chapters with great characterization. Since my characterization isn't on the same level as ML's, I'll just write shorter chapters and update faster ;P

**Disclaimer:** Bioware own the characters and ME3. That's about it.

* * *

Samantha Traynor is nearly passing out in the elevator heading up to the captain's cabin. Her data pad taps restlessly against her thigh, her eyes are darting everywhere in the tiny, moving compartment.

Did she mention she doesn't like elevators? She thinks of them as slow metal deathtraps that would cause a painfully long death by suffocation if they got stuck and no one could get you out. She wishes they had some instant teleportation device that could zip them from level to level instead.

Aren't they already in the 22nd century? People two centuries ago were already dreaming of instant teleportation. Why didn't they focus their research on moving people at a molecular level instead of squabbling over who punishes whom for blowing up a star system with 300,000 people in it?

Traynor chastises herself. She's being disrespectfully flippant. If those 300,000 had been human lives, would she still be able to joke about it so easily?

The Hegemony had damn near revolted, pressuring the Alliance to hand over their only Spectre. Humans on Earth and in the colonies had been in an uproar. Many people wanted to hand over the commander to avoid the possibility of fighting a full-out war with the batarians. Others had vehemently argued that releasing a galactic hero into batarian custody would not only guarantee her death but be a betrayal of the very virtues she embodied such as courage, integrity, and honour. Pockets of pro-human groups took Shepard's action as an unspoken validation of what they've been preaching about and organized bold terrorist strikes against the alien minorities in Earthen cities and colonies. That led to general chaos and an increased strain of relationships from the governments those aliens belonged to. Many people wanted to know what Shepard's excuses were, what justifications she thought were adequate enough to play God with so many lives. However, whatever Shepard's arguments in defence of her actions had been were only known to the military tribunal who sentenced her. Everyone else was left to speculate.

Traynor isn't sure what to think. She had watched Shepard in the vids of her award ceremony nearly three years ago. She remembers watching the solemnity with which Shepard accepted her medals, the pain that crossed her face when the Alliance brass named the soldiers and civilians who perished in the Citadel attack. She can't believe that the woman who spoke so passionately about remembering the lost could be the same one who murdered thousands of batarian civilians in cold blood. Traynor doesn't think Shepard is just another violent criminal with too much power, not after what she saw on Horizon. She is unsure of what to say to her nonetheless. She would have to find out soon.

The specialist shifts nervously from foot to foot. She has taken painstaking care to ensure she appears immaculately groomed and professional. Wouldn't want to piss off a person who can shoot her on the spot without legal repercussions on her first day, would she? Ha ha.

That's not funny. Traynor needs to stop thinking like that.

The doors hiss open, and Samantha takes a breath. She steps out to meet her new captain.

"Commander Shepard? I'm Specialist-oh."

The commander is leaning back against the rails with an asari in white and blue armour in front of her. Traynor thinks it's Dr. Liara T'Soni from the files she's read about the old Normandy. Dr. T'Soni seems on the verge of reaching out towards the commander when she jerks her hand away. The entire atmosphere is rather tense from the way the two look at each other. Traynor considers that perhaps she should have checked in a little later.

"I thought you were alone. I'll -"

The doctor turns on her heel and walks away. "I was just leaving."

"Liara." Shepard takes a step towards the fleeing asari.

"Shepard, I will talk to you later." The tone sounds strained. The commander gazes after the asari with something like wistfulness on her face. Traynor's pretty sure she's interrupted something when the commander turns to her with narrowed eyes.

Great, twenty seconds in, and she's already managed to bungle her introduction with the first human Spectre.

Traynor attempts to salvage her poise. If she's going to piss off her potential commanding officer, she wants to at least appear competent about her job while doing so. She salutes. "I'm Comm Specialist Samantha Traynor with Alliance R&D."

The commander is gazing down the path where Dr. T'Soni has fled. Traynor wonders if she's heard a word the specialist said. She coughs delicately to get her attention.

"I was part of the team retro-fitting the Normandy after you turned it over to the Alliance. There weren't many of us aboard when the Reapers hit-"

Shepard barks something, and Traynor jumps. The specialist feels her cheeks flush when she realizes that the sound had been the commander's version of a laugh.

"Slow down, Specialist Traynor. You're doing fine." The corners of the commander's lips twitch oddly. "You can just call me Shepard."

Traynor feels weird being informal so quickly with a commanding officer, but she adapts. It helps that she has just made a fool out of herself enough that her captain is stifling her laughter. "Thank you…Shepard. I worked in a lab. I never thought I'd be on a ship. I can show you-"

Shepard steps towards her cabin. "Come in and explain to me what you've done to my precious ship, and maybe I'll forgive you."

Well, that certainly doesn't sound ominous.

Traynor takes a steadying breath and steps through.

The captain's cabin seem almost conspicuously bare. There are no pictures, no possessions outside of the necessary on the shelves or on Shepard's desk. The fish tank is empty, the desk is swept clean, and the room looks hardly used, save for the tangle of covers on the bed. Traynor is disappointed. She thought she could gleam a little of the commander's personality through her room, but there is nothing here. The commander probably just hasn't had enough time to settle in. They had only been on the ship a small number of hours anyways.

"So, my ship?" Commander Shepard turns and waits for Traynor. The specialist grips her data pad and unloads with the presentation she's prepared.

Commander Shepard takes all of the modifications in stride. She even compliments Traynor on her excellent integration of current Alliance communication tech with existing Cerberus ones. The specialist feels light and tingly. She reminds herself not to swoon in front of humanity's only Spectre. She can take simple praise like a mature adult…right? Right. That is never in doubt. Grown woman, yes. Right, Shepard is still talking.

Traynor makes an unfortunate confession part-way into their conversation.

The commander just looks at her, and Traynor wonders if it is only her that finds EDI's voice attractive. She can't tell what Shepard thinks. Nothing on her face gives away what she feels about the comment. Traynor guesses that Shepard is probably a fantastic poker player with that much control over her expressions. She considers challenging her if she gets the chance.

Near the end of their talk, EDI requests that the specialist stays, and the commander agrees.

"Well, Traynor, it looks like you did an admirable job retro-fitting the Normandy. Would you like to stay on-board?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'd love to work under you."

Wait, she meant with. Traynor hopes Shepard didn't interpret it the way the specialist did.

The commander holds out her hand, and Traynor takes it.

"Welcome aboard." Shepard breaks her mask, and her eyes seem to be dancing.

The tension Traynor felt earlier melts away. Samantha's eyes flit over the shape of the commander's lips, the line of her nose, the intensity of those sharp and unreadable eyes. It might be Traynor's imagination, but the commander seems to be holding her hand a tad long. Samantha wonders if she should say something when the commander lets go.

"I hope to see more of you, Specialist."

"As much as you'd like, Commander. "

No, that isn't what she meant. Well, that is what she meant but not in that other way that could be misconstrued as-

Traynor needs to stop thinking so much.

The doors slide close as the specialist leaves Shepard's room. Her hand still tingles from when the commander held it. Traynor tries not to heed it one bit.

She later finds herself wandering the Normandy when most people are sleeping.

Traynor can't help but be proud of her part in remodeling the ship with top-of-the-line Alliance technology. The Normandy has Quantum Entanglement Communications enablers. Quantum Entanglement! They can coordinate communications with people across the galaxy with the highest security available, relay vital information immediately without relying on the comm buoys, which the Reapers have taken decisive action to either destroy or deactivate. The fact that the Alliance had managed to incorporate one into the Normandy's budget is impressive to Samantha. The sheer cost of a QEC matched the eezo drive itself.

Traynor is so busy admiring the final polish of the Normandy that she barely avoids walking into the commander in the mess hall.

Shepard has dark bruises under her eyes. There's only a handful of hours until they are supposed to reach Palaven. The commander should be sleeping.

"Commander, are you doing planning some last-minute combat strategies for when we land?"

Shepard rubs her face. "No, just a midnight stroll."

"For fresh air on the Normandy?"

Shepard laughs, and this time, Traynor is prepared for it. She frowns at how exhausted the commander looks. "You should really be in bed."

"Are you going to lead me there?" Shepard looks at her, and Traynor can't make heads or tails of anything suggestive behind it. She decides to play it safe and assume it is innocently meant.

"I don't know, Commander. I would guess that the first human Spectre and saviour of the galaxy would be able to find her own bed."

Shepard chuckles. "Saviour of the galaxy. People still think I'm that after the Bahak system?"

"Everyone knows you were telling the truth about the Reapers now." Traynor doesn't like the tired and self-deprecating smile on the commander's face. "You saved the Citadel two years ago, and you saved the colonists from the Collectors when the Alliance did nothing. I-" Samantha bites back her tongue. Is this the right time to tell her?

Not yet.

"You're a hero, Commander. Everyone working on this ship thinks you are."

"I don't."

"Well, I do."

"Yes…

"Thank you." Shepard looks away. Silence bleeds into the space between them under the soft lights of the mess hall. Traynor's not sure what to say.

"Are you going to sleep soon, Commander?"

"What about you, Specialist?"

"Well, I'm not the one who's going to be shot at in a few hours. Get some rest, Commander. It'd be a shame to ruin that pretty face of yours because you were too tired to duck."

Traynor hadn't meant to say that last part, but Shepard laughs it off. She probably thinks Traynor is joking.

"My face is pretty?" Shepard runs a finger down the thin, red ridges that line her left jaw and chin. "Even with these on it?" she asks, softly.

"I think they add character." Traynor refrains herself from reaching out and running a finger along the scars on Shepard's face. She doesn't know her well enough to touch her. "They're markers of what you fought for."

"Or of what I've lost." Shepard disdainfully touches the scar across the bridge of her nose. Is it strange that Traynor finds that particular mark on her face attractive? The specialist thinks it makes the commander look dashing and roguish, dangerous and sexy all at the same time, like a pirate from the 18th century or a lone, gallant hero who rushes in to save the damsel at the last moment.

That sounds really corny. No more romance ibooks for Samantha.

"Commander, we're all losing something in this war. I-" Traynor stutters on her words. She doesn't want to talk about Horizon. "I'm sure that the others on the ship are worried about their family and friends right now." Samantha knows that not all scars are on the outside. The worst ones can't be seen.

"How about you?" Shepard asks. "Anything or anyone you're worried about?"

The questions come low and quiet but forceful all the same. Traynor can't stand to look into Shepard's eyes when she answers. "That's a story for another time."

Traynor starts to leave.

"Hold on, Specialist. I don't recall dismissing you."

"Ma'am? Was there something else you wanted to say?"

"I…" Shepard runs her hands through her short, messy hair. "You've caught me at a bad moment. I'm usually not so dark and broody."

"It's not always a bad thing, Commander. A lot of women like dark and broody. I'm sure some men do as well." Not that Traynor would know.

Shepard glances at her. "Is that based on personal experience?"

"Somewhat." Traynor doesn't really feel like sharing horror dating stories right now. She has quite a few involving a sociopath and a former partner with destructive neurotic tendencies. "It's certainly a popular trend in the movies at least."

The commander opens her mouth. What she says next completely throws off the specialist. "'Coquettishly: You're a pain, Buben, but I can't resist your good-looking partner.'"

Traynor stares blankly at Shepard before she realizes it is a Blasto reference. "I'm sorry, Commander. I'm not really well-acquainted with that particular franchise."

"You've seen the movies, right?"

"Actually…"

The look the commander gives her makes Traynor wish she'd fumbled for a clever quote instead. Shepard shakes her head. "You should really watch them. It'll give you a good idea what you're in for on the Normandy," the commander says, and Traynor's not sure if she's kidding.

"I'll keep that in mind, Commander. I have to confess something though." Traynor makes a show of looking around then cups a hand to her mouth and whispers. "I find you more attractive than a big, pink jellyfish any day of the week."

Shepard smiles. It's a small one, but it's real and it transforms her face completely. Traynor is amazed at how such a simple expression can soften everything in her face from the jagged lines of her scars to the haunted look in her eyes. Shepard is beautiful when she smiles. It's a shame that Traynor has never seen any videos in which she does.

"Clearly, your tastes aren't as advanced as the elcor," Shepard says. "Everyone's attracted to Blasto."

"Clearly, I'm not everyone then."

Shepard runs her gaze up and down Traynor. "Clearly." There's something appreciative in her eyes that makes Traynor blush.

Is… Shepard flirting with her? Or is Traynor imagining things because she's read too many sappy romance stories about a commanding officer falling in love with her subordinate? It's probably the latter.

Yes, it's safer to assume it's the latter.

"My girlfriends and I used to talk about Blasto all the time back in training."

Girlfriends? Traynor is probably also hallucinating this part of the conversation. Shepard probably means that in a platonic way and totally not in anything more intimate.

But, just in case…

Traynor asks, "So, when you say girlfriends, you mean…?"

Shepard laughs. She bids Traynor good night and walks away. As Samantha watches her disappear down the corridor towards the elevator, she realizes that she's just learned something important.

Commander Shepard is a complete tease.

* * *

**Author's Endnotes:** If you feel that there's anything off in this chapter, feel free to message me in a review or PM, telling me what doesn't work. I don't plan to spend a month editing each chapter, so I would love to hear your constructive criticism about what you feel would make this story work better.

Thanks for reading. Cheers.


	2. Intel Gathering Attempt 1

**Author's Notes:** Word of warning, because I'm just making up the plot as I go, I may fiddle with the ratings and categories as I go along. There will probably be a rewrite when I'm done. Nothing affecting major events, but a reformatting of the chapters for a better narrative flow. Well, nothing to worry about until the end.

I really need to get to the seducing. Nope, have some character development instead.

* * *

Commander Shepard is a damn mystery.

Traynor has trouble finding the information she wants about Shepard's past. She could ask the commander herself, but since Shepard is spending several days in the infirmary after that heated mission to Grissom Academy, the specialist thinks it might be easier to read up on her than risk the commander's hospitalized wrath.

Most of the information and photos still out there are of the commander's achievements during her training years, the defence of Elysium, or the battle of the Citadel. The ones surrounding her death and her trial on Earth seem to have disappeared or have been heavily censored on both the extranet and the Alliance military database. None of the available data gives Traynor what she wants to know.

She did find some holos of Shepard's mother at the commander's funeral two years back. She is instantly fascinated by her.

Captain Hannah Shepard is dressed in her formal whites. She is standing in front of Shepard's casket while hundreds of soldiers and civilians are standing around her, the military men and women holding their hands to their foreheads in an united salute. The casket is clean and white. It's empty.

Traynor remembers hearing that the original Normandy had been blown apart so thoroughly that the clean-up ground crew had to bring crates of small containers to pick up the remains. Bodies included.

They couldn't find a speck of Shepard's. All they had to present to her mother were the commander's dog tags. The specialist can't imagine how horrible it must be for the captain to not even have a shred of her daughter to bury. Traynor doesn't think she could manage it if she was in her place.

In most of the holos, Captain Hannah's face is impassive, her bearing upright, and her demeanour almost regal. Everyone in the holos seem to treat her with the utmost respect, and Traynor's sure that not all of it is from sympathy or compassion. It's not until she approaches the commander's casket that the captain shows awareness of the fact she's burying her only child.

In a single holo captured at just the right moment, Captain Hannah can be seen with one hand on the white, plain box while her head is turned away from the camera. A corner of her mouth is visible though, and it is wrenched down in grief. Her head is not so much as bowed as sagging on her chest. Her shoulders are slightly slumped. She looks broken.

A shot a second later shows the captain standing tall again. The grief is gone. The mask is back. She can be seen striding away from the casket with her head high, her demeanour dignified and strong. The glimpse of weakness almost seems imagined if it isn't for the look in her eyes_. _It makes her seem as if she's aged too much and too suddenly.

Traynor finds the images frightening and fascinating at the same time. Save for the streaks of grey in her dark hair and the crow's feet lining her eyes, Captain Hannah looks exactly like her daughter from the firm line of her mouth to her authoritative stance. At first glance, Traynor would have assumed it is the commander standing there, saying goodbye to her mother. It hurts the specialist to know otherwise.

Save for that one faltering moment, it's hard to say that the commander's death affected the captain at all. Shepard must be proud of such a strong mother. The specialist knows her own would be in pieces if she had to bury Traynor.

The rest of holos and news items cycle past in a blur. There's nothing else that even remotely touches upon the commander's personal life. There are a few snippets of her childhood aboard ships as a military brat, but nothing interesting, nothing "juicy" for a lack of a better word. The specialist's recent conversations with Shepard have been relegated to either updates about work or chats about nothing in general. Shepard doesn't offer anything about her past. Traynor can't help but wonder why when she's so upfront about everything else.

Traynor knows she's being rather nosy, but when she looks at the commander, there's something about her that makes it hard to look away. She doesn't know if it's the expression in her eyes or casual grace in her movements, but there's something intriguing there. It's as if something in her is always moving, shifting, reflecting, blocking. The commander is like an ever-changing puzzle, challenging and taunting the specialist to solve her. Sometimes, Traynor wishes Shepard was a chess board. At least then, she'd know what moves to make to score her king.

Not that Shepard is a king or anything. She's more queenly like her mother-capable, powerful, able to use most positions, and-

That thought goes somewhere bad. Traynor struggles not to follow it.

She sifts through yet another glowing article about the commander's bravery and skill at the Blitz. She yawns. Her break is almost over. These articles aren't helping. She decides that the best way to find out about the mysterious commander is to either ask her or her friends.

Of course, since Shepard's fuming in the medbay, Traynor thinks it's best to try her friends first.

The turian sniper Shepard brought on board from Palaven seems to know her well. Most of the turians Traynor has worked with in the past had been uptight, strict, and incredibly disciplined to the point of lacking a sense of humour. She can't tell if Vakarian is the same. She doesn't talk to him much. Actually, she hasn't talked to him ever. She guesses now would be a good time to start.

Traynor approaches him in the main battery under the guise of asking if he has any requisition orders in mind. It doesn't hurt that she actually needs to do that anyways.

"Excuse me, officer Vakarian-"

"It's just Garrus. No need for formalities on the Normandy. I get enough of that from my ground teams on Palaven." He flicks through his screens without looking at her.

Traynor continues smoothly. "Of course. I'm Comm. Specialist Traynor, and I'd like to know if there are any requisition orders you'd like me to put in for you."

"Can you get better dextro food? "

"Unfortunately, that's not within my authority to order. Alliance brass has determined our current supplier is sufficient enough in terms of quality and price."

"Damn. Cheap Alliance bastards."

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Not at the moment. Is Shepard out yet?"

"Dr. Chakwas wants her there for the next couple of hours. Seems that having three bullets lodged in your shoulder blade is considered serious in her book." Traynor pauses. Now seems as good a time as any to find out about Shepard. "Have you known the commander long?"

"Long enough."

"Has she always been so reckless?"

"Mostly. She got a little crazier after that whole dying fiasco. She said that it was like a bee sting to her. Once you get one, you're no longer afraid of going through another. I don't know what bees are, but anything that stings you sounds bad."

Vakarian isn't as reticent as she expects, but he's sharp. The way his eyes dart over to her from time to time puts her on a cautious alert. Traynor chooses her next words carefully. "You'd think she'd try a little harder to stay alive, especially if she has someone to live for."

"Well, that…I don't know. Shepard has always been unpredictable. As for someone to live for, Shepard would probably say she has everyone to live for." Garrus pauses. "Or maybe it's more she has everyone to die for."

Traynor doesn't want to hear that. "So, no special someone?"

Garrus stops his typing and looks at her. "Why the curiosity?"

"I'm an Alliance soldier. We're nosy busy-bodies."

He shakes his head. "And that's why I never tell just anybody how my day's going. Who knows how far it could spread that the guns are calibrated perfectly?"

Traynor stares at him. It takes her a while to realize that he seems to be smiling. A turian with a sense of humour. Shepard does meet the strangest people. "Oh, that was a joke."

"Who said I was kidding?"

She's sure he's teasing her. Kind of. She pushes on to her next question.

"So, Shepard doesn't have anyone serious in her life to fight for?"

"I wouldn't say that. I'm pretty serious with Shepard."

"I meant people who count. Romantically."

"Ouch. That wasn't very nice of you."

Traynor shrugs. "Sometimes, I'm not. Depends on the person. Depends if they catch my eye."

"…are you coming onto me, Specialist?"

"No! I mean, not that you're unattractive or anything. You're just not my type." In so many ways.

"What is your type then?"

The conversation has gone a weird direction. Traynor tries to play along anyways.

"Smart, competent, pretty…"

"EDI's got a body now."

"Someone a bit more warm, preferably."

"I'm sure you could warm her up."

"Yes…well…can we move away from the topic of EDI and her body?" Traynor doesn't want to explain this conversation later to EDI if she is listening.

"Sure thing. Was there anything else?"

"I was just wondering…what the commander is into when she's not rescuing biotic students from mad Cerberus troops?"

"Hmm, let's see. She also spends a lot of time shooting at things, blowing up things, yelling at things, and running away from big, exploding things."

"Fascinating. The commander is truly a woman of many hobbies."

Vakarian's mandibles twitch. Traynor thinks he looks amused. That's good. Maybe she can get more info out of him that way. "So, is that all you and the commander talk about when you're together? Blowing up things? Shooting at them?"

"We also talk about how to survive suicide missions. That topic was very popular for a while."

"Is that really it?"

"Ah, well, Shepard and I also like to compare stats."

"On what?"

"On our favourite models."

"Of guns?"

Garrus leans in close. "Let's just say that Shepard appreciates the same kinds of beauties that I do. Loyal, sleek, and gorgeous. Beautifully oiled too. Nothing sounds better than the purr of your baby as you savour that last moment before you've popped your heat sink.

"Of course, you'd think Shepard and I would have dissimilar preferences, since our bodies are different, but the general idea is the same. We like the way the girls feel in our hands, the way they sing when we press all the right parts. Shepard's very good at getting hers to scream when she works them up in the heat of things."

"…we are talking about guns, right?"

"Of course."

Yes. That is obviously what they are both thinking about.

Garrus cocks his head at her. "You never answered me. Why all the interest in Shepard?'

"Wouldn't anyone be? Shepard is pretty. Unique, I mean. Pretty unique."

He looks at her. Something comes into his eyes, and Traynor doesn't like the way they suddenly shine. "Oh, ho," he says softly.

What? Is it something Traynor said? Oh, god, please don't let it be something Traynor said.

Vakarian turns to face her fully. "I wondered what all the questions were about."

"They're about finding more about my commanding officer. Shepard is the most fascinating human in the galaxy right now."

"But why not ask her directly? I'm sure Shepard would give some interesting answers as to what her _preferences_ are, her _history_."

Traynor doesn't like the look on his face. It bodes nothing good for her.

"You know, I've really got to ask the others for their requisition orders. Would love to chat more, but duty calls."

Vakarian's eyes seem to twinkle. "No need to rush. Let's just call Shepard from here and ask her right now."

"I'm sure the commander has better things to do than-"

Vakarian presses a button on his console. The commander's grumpy mumbling can be heard on the channel. "Hey, Shepard. Traynor's here with me, and she wants to ask you about what kind of girls-"

"See you later, Garrus. I need to talk to Joker and-"

Traynor flees the main battery. She's terrified that Vakarian might follow her, but he doesn't. She takes a few moments to slow her frantic heartbeats. Is Vakarian just messing with her? Maybe he didn't actually say anything to Shepard. Or maybe he blurted out all his unfounded assumptions out to the commander, and work will be extremely awkward from now on with the both of them trying to avoid the subject. Well, they're not that unfounded. If anything, they are pretty astute-

Stop that, Traynor. NOT HELPING.

Traynor doesn't have proof of anything yet. That's her problem. She'll deal with this potential dilemma in a professional manner. She'll wait until Shepard brings it up herself. That sounds perfect. Traynor is obviously not stalling the inevitable and uncomfortable discussion. Good. Glad, she can agree with herself on that.

She passes by the medbay's window where she can feel Shepard's eyes tracking her through the glass. The commander's gaze makes Traynor feel as if she's walking under a spotlight in front of thousands of judging spectators. Whatever Vakarian said must have been brief, because the commander is no longer talking on the communication channels. She watches the specialist with those relentless eyes.

Traynor wants the staring to stop. She's not sure of what to say to get it so. She waves instead.

Shepard starts in surprise but she waves back until Dr. Chakwas reprimands her for using her injured shoulder. The scowl that blossoms on Shepard's face is adorable. Traynor doesn't stay to look at it too long. She makes her escape while she can.

Operation Interrogate Vakarian is a bust. Perhaps, EDI and Joker would be a better source of information. Perhaps, it would even be easy.

Even as she walks to the bridge, Traynor knows that simply isn't true.

With Joker, nothing is easy.


	3. Intel Gathering Attempt 2

**Author's Notes**: I had difficulty with this chapter, so clearly, the best thing to do it overwrite it, flub through the editing process, then post it anyways. Seems legit.

Incidentally, having one psych degree does not equal an automatic counselor, especially if it's a bachelor's. Just thought I should bring this up.

* * *

Joker and EDI greet her at the bridge.

"Specialist Traynor. Is there something we can help you with?" EDI inquiries.

"Anything either of you would like to put on the requisition orders?"

"Can we get leather seats? You seriously can't believe how much your ass will hurt until you spend ten hours a day in this chair." Joker rocks in his seat as if to prove his point.

"No, but I can put in a note with Dr. Chakwas to check yours later if you want."

"Nah, it's okay. She checks it enough."

Traynor thinks Joker has a tendency to share too much information at times.

"Other than extravagantly comfy leather seats, is there anything else you two need?"

"Can you get me a candy bar from the mess hall? I'm feeling kind of peckish." Joker looks back hopefully.

Traynor frowns. "First of all, they're called meal replacement supplement bars. And secondly, no."

"Aww, but Kelly did it."

"Kelly?"

"Kelly Chambers, our last yeoman. She used to come up and bring me food on the bridge. She used to do a lot of things. Or tried to anyways." Joker smirks. Traynor wonder what he means, but the expression on his face looks slightly perverted. She decides that it's better not to ask.

"Well, that's the difference. I'm not a yeoman. I'm a comm specialist."

"But you're still doing butt-monkey yeoman work anyways, like asking for requisition orders."

That's not-Joker has a point.

"We all need to pitch in. After all, the Normandy is flying with barely more than a skeleton crew and-"

"You don't have to tell me what the Normandy is flying with. I'm more than aware." Joker shifts through various regulatory flight panels with rapid flicks of his wrist. His jaw tenses for a moment then eases. Traynor almost thinks she imagined it.

He continues, "Anyways, do you mind dropping down and grabbing me a 'meal replacement supplement bar'? Oooh, and get the kind with raisins."

EDI pipes in, "If you really would like one, Jeff. I can personally retrieve it. It would give me a further opportunity to accustom the crew to my new platform."

"No, EDI. If you're down in the mess hall, then you're not here. Get it?" EDI doesn't look like she does. "Besides, I need plenty of accustoming too." He looks at Traynor. His eyes grow large, and his mouth sets itself into a pout. "Please? Pretty please? Raisins?"

"No. Because I am not still not a yeoman or Miss Chambers."

"Pftt…Kelly would have noted 'meanness to Alliance pilots' on your psych evaluation."

"I'm sure I would be crushed." Traynor pauses. "Psych evaluation?"

"Some kind of psychological health reports that had her snooping around the crew. Said I use humour and sarcasm as defensive mechanisms to help deal with my real emotions."

"Really? I can't imagine why she'd say so."

Joker scowls. "Hey, there's a hell of a lot of people who needed it more than I did. Everyone who worked for Cerberus and thought they were actually helping, for one thing.

"She had a bunch on everyone in the commander's combat squad. Especially Zaeed."

Za-who?

"What did she say?"

Joker glances at Traynor. "Why do you care?"

"Alliance soldier."

"Ah, right. Well, she didn't really slap on any labels like passive-aggressive, neurotic mess hall sergeant-that one's mine, by the way-but she did make comments to the crew whenever she thought someone was close to losing it."

"Wouldn't that be a breach of confidential matter?"

"Hey, that's what I said too. She said it wasn't because she technically wasn't a qualified doctor, and the reports were really just her impressions. Then, why the hell was she sending in her reports regularly to Miranda? Well, she said-"

Joker talks a lot. Traynor tries to steer the conversation back on track.

"Was there anything out of sorts on her reports?"

"What do you mean out of sorts?"

"Well, anything that would concern the crew, I would think. It wouldn't do much for team confidence if one or more of its members has repeated fantasies of murdering everyone in their sleep." Traynor laughs. Joker doesn't.

Oh, god.

"I mean-"

"Given who we were flying with, it's a miracle she only stuck to one book about all of us. Well, most of us."

"Did she say anything about the commander?" Traynor is careful to keep her tone disinterested enough.

"She had a whole volume on Shepard. Something about nightmares, blah, blah, blah, dream interpretations, blah, blah, blah, something Jung." Joker looks over to the AI in the co-pilot's seat. "Do you remember what the reports say?"

"There are 132 reports expressing concern over the psychological well-being of Commander Shepard in addition to various correspondence between Operative Lawson and Yeoman Chambers about said reports."

"Can you tell us the gist of it for those of us who don't run on a memory databank the size of Garrus' ego?"

"Certainly. One moment."

Traynor glances at the AI nervously. Maybe she's going too far this time, delving into the commander's so-called mental health reports, but before she can stop EDI, the AI finishes her compilation.

"Commander Shepard is relatively mentally healthy in relation to her squad but she does express some symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder, which is currently being treated. She also suffers from frequent bouts of anger and depression at the various responses she has received to her appearance since her death. She has experienced a relapse into flashbacks and insomnia after meeting with former Normandy crew mate Kaidan Alenko on Horizon. Further monitoring is recommended."

Traynor finds her chest tightening painfully at the word Horizon. Fragmented memories barrage her eyes. She can't seem to breathe. She is paralyzed. Her parents' screams resound around their home as she watches them being pulled out the door. Then the swarm comes again, and the screams stop. The smell of rotted flesh and something overly sterile assaults her nose. She suffocates.

Traynor closes her eyes. She counts to ten and pushes the memories back.

Joker snorts. "Kaidan was an asshole."

"Major Alenko has shown signs of remorse regarding his outburst on Horizon since. He has attempted to contact Shepard several times to apologize," EDI refutes.

"Well, maybe he wouldn't need to apologize if he'd just heard her out first."

"Jeff, you have talked with Major Alenko several times while the Normandy was incarcerated. I know that you are not as angry at him as you make it seem."

Joker scowls. "I'm not, but it still ticks me off. For a guy who claims that he cares about the commander, he sure did a shitty job of showing it."

Major Alenko? And Commander Shepard?

Traynor asks, "Did they use to date?"

"Kaidan wishes. For some reason, he thought hanging back and giving the commander puppy eyes was the best way to ask a girl out." Joker shakes his head. "Maybe if they dated, he would've gone with her when she asked. Or maybe he wouldn't," Joker muses, "Liara didn't."

What is Joker implying between Dr. T'Soni and Shepard? Traynor is about to ask when EDI cuts in.

"Jeff," her tone is sharp, "remember what Liara has said about you talking about her personal life-"

"Yeah, yeah. With her mind. I got it." Joker looks back at Traynor. "If Liara asks, I never brought her up, right? I prefer to keep my insides intact, thank you very much."

Now, Traynor is really curious. She makes a note to try and get an interview with Dr. T'Soni when she has the chance.

She tries to probe the topic a bit more, but Joker is warier of what he says now. Apparently, he takes whatever threat Dr. T'Soni has made rather seriously. Frustrating, but Traynor is surprised that everything overall has gone very smoothly. It was almost easy.

Too easy.

Joker is starting to give her odd looks from her inquiries. She decides that a graceful exit down the bridge would be the wisest course of action. She almost makes it out when EDI looks at her.

"Specialist, I have a question."

Traynor hesitates. "Yes?"

At the specialist's expression, EDI elaborates. "It is a simple query, and it will only take a moment to answer it. It would add to my understanding of human reactions at novel stimuli as well."

Well…Traynor doesn't see any harm in a simple question as long as it's quick. "Go ahead and ask."

"I heard you talking with Garrus about my new platform some time ago, and-"

Oh, dear lord. Traynor takes it back.

" -I would be interested to hear your professional opinion on it."

"Really?" Joker perks at the question. He spins around. "Do tell."

"Don't you have a ship to be flying?" Traynor scrambles for a way to avoid this conversation.

"Nah, EDI can cover me for a minute." Jeff tilts his head to the side and rests his chin in the palm of his hand."So, what do you think of her new body?"

"It's… nice."

"Nice where?"

Traynor ignores him.

EDI urges her on. "It is imperative that I gather data about the crew's reactions to my new platform. Hostile or distrustful responses will result in a decreased overall efficiency of crew performance, and I would prefer to maintain this platform but not at the expense of the Normandy's efficiency. Jeff's opinion is biased."

"Hey, my opinion is just as objective as anyone else's! I just use more enthusiasm when I say it. Nothing wrong with being enthusiastic."

"Your new body is something to get used to, I admit, but it seems to suit you well."

"Oh, c'mon. I bet that wasn't what you were talking about with Garrus." Joker wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Ew.

"As much as I would love to stay on the bridge and chat about EDI's body, I must really get around to finishing the 'butt-monkey yeoman work', as you put it." Traynor turns to leave. She mentally pats herself on the back for how smoothly that came out.

Joker sighs. "Fine, I'll just call Garrus to see what you guys were talking about."

On second thought, Traynor can certainly spare a moment to elucidate her statement.

"I think, given the capabilities of your new platform, it would provide an invaluable asset to gathering combat data in a real-time, high-pressure scenario. It would also boost crew morale to be able to talk to you face-to-face, and get to know you as more than just a ship interface with a pretty voice. And yes, that was what we were talking about, Joker." Don't call her bluff, don't call her bluff, don't call her bluff...

"A very logical assessment. Thank you, Traynor."

Joker snorts. "You copped out." But he seems satisfied with the explanation.

"Oh, and what do you think of it?"

"Oh, I agree. I think she will bring wonderful _assets _to the team, which are going to be morally _up-lifting, _thereby _perking_-"

Scratch that. Traynor doesn't want to know what he thinks.

"I get the idea. You don't need to go on."

He frowns at her. "Prude."

"I am not."

"Traynor is correct." EDI chips in. "A label of sexual conservativeness would be inappropriately applied to her. According to my records, the percentage of overlapping pornographic material downloaded between you and Jeff is 48.3%."

The bridge is silent.

LIES. This conversation is not happening.

Traynor opens and closes her mouth. Nothing comes out. She can't even get a single word of denial out. Great, now it really does seem like she watches it.

Joker's eyes are far too wide. "Holy shit, for real? Oh man, we need to compare notes! I was just watching _Embracing Eternity: Into the Deep Blue_ and I thought it was me but one of the actresses looked like she was faking it. Maybe you can give me a second opinion since you're also into this kind of stuff-"

NOT HAPPENING.

"That was a joke," EDI clarifies a second later.

"Oh." Joker is quiet for a moment. "Well, could you check anyways when you have free time?"

"The actual percentage is 69.7%."

"I don't download pornography!" Traynor does not watch that sort of cheap...filth!

"My mistake. Would erotic adult romance be a more apt name for the subject?"

_No._

"Hell, yes!" Joker looks at Traynor slyly. "So, what is your favourite 'erotic adult romance'? Is it _Vaenia_? _Asari Confessions 26: True Blue_? _Azure: The Illium Edition_?"

"I don't watch any of those! And I don't have any 'adult romances' either."

"Oh, c'mon. Not even a little? Even Shepard has one or two favourite vids."

What? Commander Shepard has…?

No, this is not what she wanted to find out about her.

But…

No.

BUT-

NO.

"I don't care, Joker. I don't do that."

"Fine, okay. If you're not comfortable with admitting it, that's cool." He shrugs and turns back to his flight board. "But you can at least admit that you have a crush on a certain someone, right?"

The specialist's insides turn to ice.

Oh, god. Does everyone on this damn ship know?

"I don't-"

"When you spend your entire life sitting on the sidelines, you get to damn well noticing when someone else is watching too." He glances at EDI. His fingers falter on the screens.

Joker turns around and leans back in his chair. "So, when are you going to tell her?"

Traynor shakes her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a crush on-did you say her?"

"Well, yeah." Joker looks confused. "Isn't it obvious?"

Traynor is surprised. She hadn't thought Joker was that perceptive.

"I mean, if you like the vids I like, it's definitely not a him."

Oh, for-

"For the last time, that was a joke. Right, EDI?"

"Of course. I had detected varying physiological patterns from you in the main battery that suggested stress and thought a joke would reduce the tension."

Traynor rubs her face. "For future reference, I don't appreciate jokes that have people leaping to conclusions about my off-hour…interests."

"Noted. I will assimilate this experience into my data banks."

Joker looks back and forth between EDI and Traynor. "Hey, you didn't answer my question."

Traynor says, "Your question was based on a fictitious allegation."

"Yeah, but you didn't deny you had a crush on a her, did you?"

No, she didn't.

Dammit.

"The Alliance looks down on fraternization-"

Joker snorts. "Who cares? In case you haven't noticed, the universe is going to hell in a hand basket. I doubt any of the Alliance brass will court-martial you if you've been banging someone on the crew when they've got Reapers breathing down their necks."

Traynor frowns. That was the only excuse that came to mind. Now what?

"Yes, but I-"

"Look, you don't have to tell me the name. I can guess who it is." Joker shifts his eyes over to the AI in the co-pilot's seat. He whispers, "EDI's a bit of a blabbermouth."

"I am right here, Jeff."

"Yes, you are, EDI." Joker looks pensive. He rubs his hand along his bearded chin. "Actually, EDI, can you grab that meal whatever bar from the mess hall now?"

"If you're trying to get some privacy, it's going to be hard since EDI picks up everything if you don't engage the privacy lock," Traynor points out then freezes.

EDI picks up everything. No privacy lock. Main battery.

She needs to talk to EDI. Now.

The AI looks at her. Her expression is unreadable.

"Jeff, Specialist Traynor needs to go. Engineer Adams has been asking for a long time for a KX-37G heat dispersal unit to help redistribute the electric discharge-"

"Got it. Need a thingy to get rid of heat-static thingies. All right, you can go. I've got a pretty good idea of who it could be anyways." He winks at the specialist.

Traynor isn't sure that he does. She hopes that he doesn't. She beats feet out of the bridge and makes her way to the nearest empty room.

The Starboard Observation Chamber is quiet and peaceful. The lights are soft and low. The floor is swept clean while the seats look untouched. It feels sterile and lonely. It reminds her of Shepard's room.

"EDI." Traynor's voice comes out higher than she intends. She clears her throat and starts again. "Did you hear what Garrus and I were talking about down in the main battery."

"If it is about Commander Shepard, then yes."

Traynor takes a breath. "What did you understand from it?"

"Given the context of that discussion and the one you have just had with Jeff and I, I would conclude that you are seeking information on Commander Shepard due to a romantic or sexual attraction.

"Is my assumption incorrect?"

"Yes," Traynor quickly answers.

"My mistake. Your physiological patterns when talking to Shepard indicated either fear or arousal. Within the social context, I had interpreted it as the latter. From now on, I will assume that the changes in your heart rate whenever you are talking to the commander represents complete and absolute terror."

Traynor is pretty sure EDI is messing with her. She is almost impressed.

"That was a-"

"I know." Traynor bites her lip. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't go around sharing your…interpretations…with the other crew members. Especially with Commander Shepard. Or Garrus. And definitely Joker." She doesn't know what she'll do with the latter two.

"Request acknowledged. I will not speak of my theories about your reactions to Shepard to anyone. However, I have a request of my own."

Traynor is wary. "What is it?"

"Jeff has expressed attachment to me, which largely resembles yours to the commander. I have found that I enjoy the attention from him. Would it be uncomfortable for me to ask you for advice on how to maintain it?"

Yes.

"I don't know if I'm the best person to ask about how to keep a man interested." Traynor fidgets with her fingers. "Perhaps, someone else would be more suitable."

"There are not many I trust to be discrete on the matter. I have found that Normandy personnel have a tendency to spend hours discussing the affairs of others. I believe the common term associated with this behaviour is 'nosy'."

"And you believe that I could keep this information to myself?"

"My monitoring records have shown repeated occurrences where you did not share personal information about the others, despite your discoveries, such as an incident where you found Lieutenant Cortez underneath the engineering deck and comforted-"

"All right. I'll help however I can." Traynor does not want to relive that particular awkward moment. She had never really wanted to see a grown man cry before. Especially on her.

An idea occurs to her. "Wait, EDI. If you monitor people's physiological levels, what are Commander Shepard's like when she talks to me?"

"I am sorry, Traynor. Shepard has requested that I do not answer anyone except Dr. Chakwas when asked for her patterns. She says she does not want to worry any of the crew members."

Traynor sighs. "But you gave out her psych reports info so easily."

"Shepard did not request I limit access to the information. She says she finds the reports an inaccurate account of her mental health."

Shepard doesn't think she may have psychological issues after dying and being resurrected to fight more unknown space horrors. Reassuring.

"Well, we got that all sorted out. You keep my secret, and I'll keep yours. Sounds good?"

"Agreed. While I may not be able to directly inform you of the commander's physiological responses to you, I may still guide you in your endeavours. I may even guide the commander as well. I believe this particular role is called a 'match-maker', as humans have phrased it. I look forward to playing the part."

Goody. That's exactly what she needed.

Before Traynor leaves and actually gets to work, there's something she has to know.

"EDI, do you have access to any records regarding Shepard's previous…er…dating experience?"

"Yes. Shepard has also restricted those files too."

Of course, she did.

Traynor wonders why things can't be simple sometimes. She would kill to be able to have a straightforward conversation about the commander: Yes? No. I don't know. I was just curious, seeing as how she's a strong, attractive woman-look, are you going to tell me if she's single or not?

She sighs. Maybe she should just ask the commander herself. It has to be easier than asking everyone else, right?

Right?


	4. Doctors

**Author's Notes:** Updates will be irregular or possibly non-existent for a while due to work. Normal ones should resume after the first week of September.

Speaking of weeks, apparently, my birthday is arriving by the next.

Oh dear.

* * *

Shepard is gone by the time Traynor makes it up to the med bay.

Of course.

Because that would have made things easy.

Traynor comes up to visit her after completing her tasks, and it turns out the commander has already been discharged from the ship's infirmary. Dr. Chakwas confirms that Shepard has retreated to her room in one of her "dark moods" which always appear after spending time in the medbay. She asks not to be disturbed unless 1) there is an urgent message from Admiral Hackett or 2) the crew is being kidnapped by the Reapers' agents again.

Traynor isn't particularly fond of the sound of the second option. Again? What again? Why is there an again there?

Chakwas waves off the question and says it probably won't happen this time around. Shepard has promised that much.

The specialist is not reassured.

They chat for a while, comparing their experiences in London when it occurs to Traynor that the doctor could prove to be an invaluable source of information on Shepard. She opens her mouth then shuts it promptly.

Something about the sly glint of intelligence in Chawkas' eyes makes her wary of asking a direct question about the commander. Or maybe her past experiences these last few hours has taught her that things can and will go wrong at a moment's notice. Especially with people who are well acquainted with the commander for some reason.

Her instincts are proven right when Dr. Chakwas later confesses her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Specialist. I had half-expected you to come into the med-bay, looking for information on the commander."

Traynor's heart stops for a long moment. It beats again after some rather giddy laughter. "Why would you think that? The commander is impressive and all, but it's not like she's the only person in the galaxy."

"I suppose I just got into a habit of expecting a crush of some sort from the crew members when they come into my med-bay and ask about her. Especially the younger ones. I had a feeling you might be one of them, but I guess my instincts aren't as keen as they used to be in my age."

Oh, Dr. Chakwas. Ha ha ha ha…

Traynor quickly diverts the subject from herself. "I guess the commander's a popular woman nowadays."

"She's always been popular. First, with the Admirals and, secondly, with everyone on board. I can't begin to tell you how many people have asked me about her, like they think I can figure out the commander any better than they can." She shakes her head. "And perhaps, I can, but I certainly won't let any information slip from me easily. At least, not until I've gone through several bottles of Serrice Ice Brandy." Her eyes twinkle in a way that reminds Traynor uncomfortably of Garrus'. "Would you care to make a bet during a friendly drinking contest?"

"I'm sorry, doctor. Not all of us are made of credits for extravagantly expensive things." Like a 6,000 credit toothbrush.

Traynor shushes herself.

"Alas. I shall have to attend to my patients sober and richer for the experience then." Chakwas sifts through her medical reports. "Was anything else you needed?"

The specialist shakes her head and bids Dr. Chakwas goodbye. She leaves the med-bay feeling frustrated.

The rest of the hours melt by in a blur. Traynor gets lost integrating the incoming combat data from turian and Alliance forces into a comprehensive report. It's becomes so late at night that only EDI is fully awake. Traynor sits in the mess hall, trying to finish her data with only the AI to talk to.

And EDI can be very talkative when she wants to be.

"...there are approximately 15,000 recommended procedures about how to approach a prospective partner in the known galactic space. I have narrowed the search parameters down to human female, and the numbers have been reduced to a mere 3, 000. I have further divided that along the lines of age and gender, and have come up with a few 256 suggestions."

Traynor groans. She rubs her eyes.

"Many of these suggestions recommend giving her a gift of some kind, like a card or aromatically-pleasing plants. Roses appear to be a popular choice in human literature."

Flowers? Somehow, Traynor gets the impression the commander wouldn't know what to do with a bouquet of flowers unless it shot bullets.

"Perhaps, a musical composition of some sort. A ballad?"

Traynor imagines herself trying to play something that isn't a chess board in front of the commander, and that plan's out faster than the Normandy can jump relays.

"Have you considered using a pharmaceutical to simulate the feelings in Shepard you wished for her to have? "

That would be in violation of several dozen Alliance laws. And probably a hundred galactic ones.

"Perhaps, talking to her would be the simplest solution?"

Like she hasn't tried. Shepard refuses to respond to any comm message that doesn't pertain to mission reports or urgent messages. When pressed, she answers with a grumpy snarl then disconnects the channel. Traynor thinks it is probably a good idea to wait until her foul mood burns out first. Whenever it does...

"Many of these recommended methods of provoking a sexual response from the other party have over a 95% failure rate when factors of the commander's personality and history are taken into account." EDI pauses. "Have you reconsidered your attitude to the pharmaceutical method?"

Traynor drops her head on the table. As much as she appreciates EDI's enthusiasm in the matter, she thinks both she and the AI would benefit if the specialist vastly simplifies the search parameters.

"EDI-"

The hiss of doors opening cut her off.

Dr. T'Soni steps into the mess hall. Her eyes are shadowy and hollowed.

EDI stops her suggestions, and Traynor is relieved until Dr. T'Soni sits down and the specialist sees her expression.

She suddenly wishes that EDI would keep talking.

"Liara, is something the matter?" EDI asks.

"Not at all. I wish to have a brief, friendly chat with Specialist Traynor. Please engage the privacy lock."

That doesn't sound like it would be brief or friendly at all.

Traynor eyes the path back to the elevator. She's in reasonable shape. She could probably make it in under a few seconds.

EDI says, "If it is privacy you need, the Starboard Observation deck offers-"

"Thank you, but the matter I will discussing with Specialist Traynor is not of Alliance secrecy. I merely wish to talk to her without interruptions."

"I would not interrupt-"

"EDI, please. This is something that cannot be shared with anyone else but the two of us. Remember what we have discussed back in my cabin."

What? What did they discuss? Why does it need to be mentioned? Should Traynor run now? Now?

EDI is silent for a moment. "Of course. I will leave you two to discuss your business." Her tone sounds apologetic. "Engaging privacy lock."

And Traynor is alone to discuss a foreboding topic with the powerful biotic across from her. She has just developed a new and passionate hatred of privacy lock and all its implications.

Dr. T'Soni stares at her over the top of her hands. Her eyes are unreadable and scrutinizing. It's like being scanned by EDI, except the AI at least tries to make a joke while doing so.

"Specialist Traynor." She carefully enunciates each word, her tone soft and demure. It's a complete contrast to the look on her face that makes Traynor avoid her eyes.

"Dr. T'Soni, how can I help you?"

"Please, just call me Liara."

"All right, Liara. Is there something on your mind?" Traynor sounds remarkably steady and calm. She is impressed with herself. She doesn't sound like she's cursing out EDI's inconvenient silence at all.

"You seem to be working hard tonight." Liara touches the data pads on the table. "Not planning to sleep?"

"Are you?"

Liara glances at the specialist. Her gaze is cool.

"There is too much to do. I am sure you would agree." She withdraws from the pads and links her fingers together. Traynor is suddenly reminded of being in grade school and sitting in front of a principal who is about to exact a confession from her. Not that ever happened to her. She was a model student.

Mostly.

Anyways, Liara staring at her unnervingly. Yes, back to that.

"I heard you were talking to Dr. Chakwas earlier today, asking about Shepard."

Traynor's not sure where this is heading, but she doesn't like it already. "Yes, I ask if she knew if the commander had any requisition orders she wanted delivered." Among other things.

Liara flicks her eyes over the specialist. "Was that really all you wanted to know?"

"Yes. Was there something else I needed to know?"

"That depends." Liara meets the specialist's gaze dead on, and Traynor barely stops herself from looking away.

Dr. T'Soni may be a competent information broker and one of Shepard's closest allies, but that does not mean the specialist feels comfortable asking her questions. The asari's eyes are piercing. It feels as if the doctor is looking through her and reading her secrets at the back of her skull.

Traynor'd really rather have another go at Joker again than this.

"How interested are you to find out more about Shepard?"

"As interested as a simple comm specialist can be about her commanding officer."

"Indeed." Liara doesn't move and neither does Traynor.

The specialist has a chance to study the asari's smooth skin, the vivid blue hues of her eyes, and the elegant poise in her posture. Liara is remarkably pretty. Traynor is glad that she is, otherwise she'd probably start to think that this prolonged and unnecessary silence would be rather awkward.

"Was…there something specific you wanted to talk to me about?" Traynor asks.

"A source of mine has mentioned the possibility that you are invested in a certain someone as more than just another colleague."

Traynor feels sweat beading down her back. Is it Garrus? EDI? Did Joker blab? Oh, it probably was Joker. Traynor is going to kill him!

Well, not kill. Maybe somewhat maim him would be a better approximation...maybe just steal his hat when he's not looking.

"Really, I didn't figure you for the type to indulge in idle gossip." Traynor smiles nonchalantly while her heart is thudding hard and fast in her chest. The back-and-forth nature of the conversation reminds her of a chess game. All she needs to do is keep it together, look for openings…

"I normally would not, but because I felt this more than 'idle gossip', there was a need for me to step in."

"Because of your relationship to the commander." Traynor is rewarded for her speculation by Liara's brief expression of surprise. The asari quickly composes herself.

"Is that what Joker told you?" Her tone is perfectly civil. It's terrifying to look into her eyes.

"I took a guess based on your interactions together." Traynor isn't telling a lie, per say. She has thought it suspicious with the way they throw glances at each other, with how the commander frets over each injury T'Soni receives, or how Liara lets her, despite being perfectly capable to deal with them herself. Given enough time, Traynor could have worked out that there is something between them herself.

Also, she only wants the Normandy pilot partially maimed and/or robbed, not…whatever it is Liara has threatened to do to him.

"So, he hasn't mentioned anything about Shepard and I?" Liara looks sceptical. Traynor admits she probably would be too since it is Joker.

"Not that I know of. Is there something I should know?"

"You are interested in the commander."

"Well, if I was, I'd think I would already know that." Traynor's heart feels like it's trying to dash up her throat. "And I wouldn't trust your source. We both know how much Joker can exaggerate."

Liara's expression is completely impassive. Traynor is both impressed and frustrated. She can't get anything off of her face.

"Was it Joker?"

"I do not give out the identities of my sources. It does not lend me much credit as an information broker." A smile flickers at Liara's lips, but it feels faint, shadowy. "It does not change the point of my discussion."

"Which is?

Liara tilts her head to the side as if calculating her next move.

"Did you know Shepard and I used to be lovers?"

If Liara's aim is to throw Traynor off-balance, she succeeds.

Traynor stares blankly at the asari before she remembers she's supposed to say something intelligent. "Er…."

Yes, like that. Perfect.

"What do you mean 'used to'?"

Liara picks at something on her coat, even though her clothes are immaculate. "I suppose in human terms, we had 'broken up'."

"Why?"

"Irreconcilable differences."

"You mean because she died?"

"Most consider death an irreconcilable difference."

She sits back and rubs her crest thoughtfully. "Shepard and I are just different people now. Neither she nor I are who we used to be."

Doesn't mean you care less about her, Traynor almost says aloud. She catches herself and shoves a coffee cup in front of her mouth. It then dawns on her that this may be what the conversation is about. A second thought hits her right after.

She's on a ship with Shepard's ex. A beautiful ex with several doctorate degrees, an extensive information network, and the ability to crush solid metal into itty-bitty pieces with her mind. She also seems to be highly protective of the commander.

She is so screwed.

"Why tell me all this?"

Liara just smiles. Her eyes turn a shade of blue that turns Traynor cold all over. "My question first. Why the interest in the commander?"

"Maybe it's not the commander I'm interested in. Maybe it's something else." Traynor shrugs. She has no idea what she's talking about. She's too thrown off by the idea that Shepard and Dr. T'Soni used to date. Does that mean the commander is into asari? They look close enough to human women that Traynor might still have a shot, she thinks...

"Like what?"

"Like...someone else." Traynor gazes at Liara. She manages not to look away. Neither does Liara. Seconds stretch into a minute. The specialist fidgets. Why doesn't T'Soni look away? Is she trying to scare Traynor into confessing that she is actually after the commander? Because it is totally working. Traynor would break down right now if it weren't for the fact that it would feel like admitting defeat to something she can't quite name-

"Ladies, I hope you don't mind me dropping into your discussion." Joker limps towards them, a grin across his face.

Liara breaks eye contact and frowns. "EDI," she mutters before she turns to face the pilot.

Traynor is so relieved she can't even articulate the sensation. She has an odd feeling of narrowly avoiding a slip into a well-hidden and vast trap. She thinks it may become a good habit to never work alone at night at the mess hall ever again.

"What? No smiles for me?" Joker comes up to their table.

Liara asks, "Are you off-duty now?"

"Yeah, Stevenson and EDI got it covered until I recharge." At Traynor's surprised look, he continues. "What? I sleep too."

Of course, Joker sleeps. It's not as if Traynor thinks he is always on the bridge-all right, she completely does. To be fair, it does feel like he's always there, no matter what time she goes to see him. Maybe, it's just the pilot's presence...

"So, what were you two discussing?" Joker glances between T'Soni and Traynor. "Is it about amazing Normandy pilots?"

"Please, Joker. We were talking about something serious," replies Liara. Traynor can't tell if she's joking. She and Shepard would probably make a bad comedy duo. Both would be the straight man. Well, not in either any sense of the phrase or its individual words-

Traynor thinks too much. Does she know that? Well, she probably has to because they are her thoughts and-

Stop that.

"More serious than piloting? Was it calibrations?"

Liara rubs the area between her eyes. She looks like she has a headache. "We were talking about the commander."

"Oh, right. The 'commander'." Joker winks at Traynor. She stares at him, stupefied. What exactly does he think that word is code for?

"And how's that going?" he asks Liara.

"Fine. Did you come down here with a purpose?"

"What? A guy can't come down and talk with some of his ship mates without an ulterior motive?" He limps over to the small kitchen counter. He pulls open a drawer and picks up a meal replacement bar. "All right, I was hungry too, but go on with your discussion. Don't mind me." Joker bites into it. "Oh, hey. Raisins."

Liara sighs. She sounds frustrated. "Did EDI send you?"

Joker's brows scrunch together. "No, although she did suggest that I actually get this meal replacement thingy if I was going to keep on talking about it."

"When?" Liara asks.

"A few minutes ago."

From the hard set of T'Soni eyes, the specialist can tell she doesn't believe that's a coincidence. Neither does Traynor, and she silently sends a prayer of thanks to EDI. She also takes back all the curses she mentally lobbed the AI's way earlier. There are, unfortunately, quite a bit of them.

"I see. And here I thought you just naturally have bad timing."

"Why? Was something juicy being discussed?"

"No. We were just finished." Liara stands up to leave. "Thank you for the talk, Traynor. It proved quite stimulating."

"I bet it was." Joker looks from face to face, grinning. His smile slips off when he realizes the two females are not laughing. "You're talking about Shepard, and you're not laughing? Something is wrong here."

Joker scratches his beard in thought before something seems to hit him. He leans back casually against the counter. "Were you giving poor Samantha here the don't-mess-with-Shepard speech?"

Liara stiffens. "That's none of your business, Joker." Her tone is curt.

"You don't have to worry about her going after the commander."

Liara looks at him. "I beg to differ. Why else would she ask so much about her?"

"Maybe it was just misdirection. Maybe she meant to look into something else."

No...Traynor is pretty sure she meant to look into Shepard's history.

So is T'Soni. The asari looks puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't tell you haven't notice how much she stares when you guys come back from a mission?"

Liara's face hardens. "At Shepard."

"At who's with Shepard." At Liara's confused expression, Joker elaborates. "C'mon, think about it. Someone pretty. Someone smart. Someone _womanly_."

"EDI?"

"No! Jesus, Liara. It's just like the first Normandy all over again." Joker shakes his head. Liara looks completely bewildered. So does Traynor. She has no idea what Joker is talking about.

"Okay, I'll give you a big hint then." He glances at the specialist. "Sorry, but you'll thank me later when you're finally hooking up."

Oh, no. What is he-

"Traynor's not into Shepard. She's into asari."_  
_

The mess hall is silent as they try to absorb the pilot's words. Traynor is the first to do so.

_WHAT?_

"What?" T'Soni is so startled that she forgets to be intimidating. She stares with such wide eyes at the specialist that Traynor would almost think the expression is cute if she isn't so busy being mortified. Liara's lips move silently, mouthing something that looks like "someone else". Traynor feels like Joker just tossed her out the airlock.

"Yeah, she kept prodding me on the bridge earlier trying to find out more information about a certain one." He turns to wink at Traynor. The specialist feels a strong urge to punch him in the face. Funny, she had never wanted to hit someone before she met the flight lieutenant.

Where did Joker even draw that conclusion? It's not as if she's ever mentioned an interest in-oh, my god. He still thinks EDI's joke wasn't a joke.

"That's ridiculous, Joker. I'm not interested in any asari," Traynor quickly says.

"Why not? You don't think they're pretty?" Joker asks.

T'Soni's eyes narrow at the statement.

Oh, crap.

"Of course, I do! I think they're gorgeous, elegant, capable, with amazing eyes and intelligence, fantastic bodies, devastating looks-"

It really does sound like she's into them. This is probably going badly.

"-but I'm not interested in them that way. I just think they're a very beautiful race."

"I see." Liara crosses her arms. She tries to appear stern, but she ends up looking uncertain instead. "And all this data hunting about Shepard?

Traynor is about to reply when Joker cuts in.

"Hello? You're an information broker. What better way to find out info without people knowing than misleading them?"

Liara runs her hand over her crest in thought. "I suppose."

"Just for the record. Joker is a fibbing pervert. I don't like asari that way," Traynor adds.

"Hey! That's not what your collection of Vaenia says."

Oh, shut up already.

Liara gazes at the specialist. "I need some time to absorb this information. Perhaps, we can talk again later." She moves to leave.

Without thinking, Traynor steps right in front of her. "Liara, please believe me when I say I am not, at any moment, attracted to-"

Liara looks at the specialist, and her expression is slightly panicked. Traynor realizes that they are very, very close. Far too close.

She steps back. "I apologize. I just wanted to make sure-"

"I understand. I am just uncertain about what to say. I am not-" Liara breaks away, looking confused. Her broker mask has slipped off. She looks young and flustered. She looks real for the first time this evening. "Good night, Specialist Traynor."

Liara steps back into her cabin before the specialist can say another word in her defense. Traynor doesn't have the words to describe how mortified she is. She would almost have preferred it if T'Soni flayed her alive instead.

Joker hobbles up to her. He jabs her in the side with his elbow slyly. "Oh, man. Liara, huh? Can't blame you for trying there."

He looks baffled at Traynor's glare.

"What? Was it something I said?"

* * *

**Author's Endnotes**: Again, all comments and criticism welcome. I'll try to update one more over the next two weeks, but again, dependent on my work schedule. Have a good one.


	5. Dancing

**Author's Notes**: Hooray, I'm alive!

Although I am actually very glad about that fact, I know it's been a while, and I apologize to everyone who have been patiently waiting for the newest chapter. A combination of various life stuff has hit me all at once, and until I can find some sort of stable ground, updates will be a bit slower than before. Anyways, please accept this piece that's about double the size of my usual chapter as compensation for my ill-disguised negligence.

Also, thank you to all my readers, reviewers, followers, and people who have put either this story or me on their favourite list. Special thanks to those who have wished me a happy birthday. It was a great party that quickly grew much larger than I had originally intended it. Good times.

* * *

"I see. So, the portrayal of women-like figures in these videos are considered by many to be sexually callous, unrealistic, and degrading to the image of women-kind as a whole."

"Right. Even though Joker may realize that it's all a fantasy, the subconscious themes and images in them can influence his thoughts and actions in regards to his relationships with any kind of females." Traynor sips her drink. The specialist sounds perfectly smooth and reasonable. "Really, you'd be doing Joker a favour by getting rid of his collection."

The music in Purgatory is loud, but there are secluded alcoves where couples have a better chance of hearing each other for more…intimate matters. Also, for suspiciously well-reasoned advice.

EDI frowns across the table from Traynor. "But, Jeff would be distraught at the purging of his collection."

"Well, how about replacing them with healthier, educational versions? The Alliance has some great sexual health vids that would help Joker adjust to better, more realistic depictions of physical relationships with women."

EDI's brows scrunch together. "Specialist Traynor, are you still experiencing anger regarding Jeff's involvement with your encounter with Dr. T'Soni?"

"Of course not." Traynor finishes the rest of her drink. "I've told you as much."

"Yes, but my scans had detected elevated heart rate levels and muscular tensions after Jeff—"

"Do your scans detect them now?"

"No, but—"

"Then, I'm not mad anymore. Not at all." She looks indifferently at her glass. "I'm only concerned that Joker's preoccupation with highly-glamorized and fabricated images of women would impact your relationship as well any other relationship with females negatively." God knows, he's already been there.

The pilot himself sits a table over. The specialist had politely asked to borrow EDI for a bit when he and the AI had been chatting together. After the very…persuasive talk Traynor had with him after what happened, Joker has agreed not to try to "help" in the future. She hasn't tried to explain who her actual crush is. If that's what he did with Liara, Traynor wants him nowhere near Shepard.

"That sounds like a logical assertion." EDI shifts in her seat. Her skins has a faint glow from the low lights in the club. "I will oversee their replacement at once."

Traynor smiles. She picks up her glass and stands up. "Good. I'm sure he'll have a lot to say about it." She walks away and passes by Joker.

She waves to him. He waves back hesitantly. The specialist passes him with the smile still on her face.

It follows Traynor all the way down as she weaves her way deeper into Purgatory.

She's not mad at all.

A loud beat pulses throughout the club so loudly, it rattles the bones in her chest. It's hot and suffocating. A similar beat throbs in her head. Probably from her drinks.

Traynor's a bit annoyed that she came, but there had been a ship-wide invitation for a party the night before they leave the Citadel. It had seemed antisocial to not turn up, although the specialist would definitely prefer a quiet environment with just her work. And maybe someone else too.

Shepard is rumoured to be attending the party at Purgatory. The specialist catches glimpses of the commander here and there amidst swirls of people. Shepard always slips into the crowd just as Traynor makes her way to her. If she didn't know any better, she'd say Shepard was avoiding her on purpose, but that would be preposterous. The commander has nothing to avoid her for unless she happened to chat with Garrus. Or Liara. Or Joker. Or all three. At once.

Traynor considers that she probably needs other allies other than EDI on the Normandy.

At least she hasn't bumped into the former two so far, not that Dr. T'Soni is the type to hang out at a place like this, or so Traynor would like to think. She keeps a lookout for an asari in a white lab coat in any case.

Shepard darts away from her yet again to make her way towards a purple-skinned asari in a secluded corner of the club.

The specialist is about to follow when a new song comes on, and people push against her in excited droves. Some try to do more than push.

"That's not how you treat a lady."

Lieutenant Vega appears from the crowd to rip a wandering hand away from Traynor's behind.

"She was asking for it," the man jeers. Traynor shudders internally at the look on his face when he turns to her.

"That's not how you talk to one either." Vega twists the man's wrist sharply. The specialist is surprised it doesn't snap.

The drunk collapses to his knees. He looks like he might have wetted himself. Smells like it too. "Shit! Shit! I didn't know she was yours, man! I'm sorry!"

Vega lets go and the man instantly scampers into the crowd.

Traynor looks at the lieutenant standing behind her. "Was that really necessary?"

Vega looks thoughtful. "No, but you have to admit it was a little satisfying."

Traynor admits no such thing even though it may be just a bit true. She looks to the corner where the commander was last seen. The highly guarded asari is alone, looking bored. Shepard has disappeared once again.

She sighs. She's starting to wonder if this crush is worth all the trouble she seems to be going through. Maybe she should have a crush on Dr. T'Soni. At least, she knows where the asari is most of the time. Like in her room where no one except her and Shepard can get in.

Maybe Traynor should just stop liking antisocial people. They really should stop being so pretty in that case.

Vega coughs politely, and the specialist starts. Right, he's still here.

"Would you care to get a drink with me, Lieutenant?"

Vega grins. "Lead the way." He holds his arm towards her in a gallant manner. It's kind of cute in an old-fashioned, chivalric sort of way.

She takes it, mostly for Vega's sake, since he's starting to teeter from side to side.

Traynor leads him through the crowd. She manages to get him to a bar stool and signals for the bartender for some water.

"Feel better?" She watches Vega drain the entire glass.

"Lots. Another beer, please." He signals to the bartender, who ignores him.

Traynor shakes her head. "I didn't think you were the drinking type, Lieutenant."

"My friends call me James."

She is amused. "And are we friends now?"

"Well, if a beautiful woman like yourself asks, how can I say no?"

Traynor rolls her eyes. She gets him some more water.

"You never answered my question, by the way."

Vega shifts in his seat. "I was trying to get news from Earth." He runs his hand over the wiry bristles on his head. "I know the rest of my family is safe for now, but I haven't heard anything from my uncle. He was visiting San Francisco when the Reapers hit. My father was in Boston. Tough, old bastard probably survived the first assault."

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?"

James doesn't answer. He takes a long swig of his glass instead.

Traynor gently diverts the conversation towards work after James' silence. "Are you nervous about the summit tomorrow?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. I figured the commander will handle that. She's the only person I know tough enough to knock some sense into the diplomats."

Traynor hopes it won't be with the butt of her rifle. The specialist is probably letting her imagination run away with her based on a lot of the combat vids she's seen of the commander. Shepard's not the type to resort to violence against the high-ranking politicians and leaders, right?

Vega looks at her. He seems marginally more sober. "So, what's a nice girl like you helping a guy like me?"

She casually leans against the counter. "Maybe it's because of your dashing good looks?"

Vega looks startled then breaks into a big grin. "Oh, yeah?" He leans in, trying to be smooth. He nearly falls off of his seat.

"Easy, James. I was joking."

"Or maybe you were letting your subconscious talking."

"Or maybe you were mistaken." Traynor can't help teasing him. He looks so cute, all flustered at the bar. You know, like a puppy. An absolutely drunk puppy with a buzz-cut and the physique of someone on steroids. Traynor is not good at not letting analogies run away with her.

He drops his head and looks at her for a long time from the counter. "I needed liquid courage."

"For what?"

He glances at her again then downs his glass. "What's the dress for? Something like that tells me you have a goal in mind."

Traynor tugs at the hem of her sleek, black dress. It goes up to her mid-thigh and brings attention to her curves, elegantly coiffed hair, and strategically applied make-up. It's also been turning heads everywhere. Mostly everyone else's but the person she wore it for. It might have been a tad overkill. "Maybe I just wanted to feel pretty."

He smiles. "I don't think you need to. You're already beautiful enough."

"Oh, that's just the alcohol talking."

"You kidding me? Have you seen yourself? I'll get a mirror." He nearly falls off the stool when he gets up.

"Slow down. I believe you," Traynor says kindly. She tries to push him back on the stool. She has to put her back into it. "As flattering and amusing it would be to watch you stumble for a mirror in your inebriated state, I think I will be doing everyone a favour if we get you sobered up first."

Vega stares down at his glass. "Have you ever wanted to have a family?"

Traynor blinks at the question. "You mean settle down and have kids?"

He raises his glass up to the shifting lights as if he could reveal something in it that way. "Yeah, something like that. You know, a couple of rug rats and a spouse to come home to."

Traynor has thought about that. More often with each day that passes.

"It'd be nice to have someone to come back to." He turns to her and rests his chin in the palm of his hand. "My mom would've liked you."

The specialist doesn't know what to make of that. "I don't know. I mean, I've got a lot of bad habits like…"

Pining over her superior officer.

"…cursing." Right? Damn, hell, crap.

He laughs. "Is that really the worst you can think of?"

Unless she wants to tell him that she's purposely misleading at least two members of the crew to avoid further interrogations of an "interest" in their captain, then yes.

"Also, I snore."

"From someone as pretty as you, it'd probably sound like the singing of the angels of themselves." He places a hand on his chest dramatically.

Traynor nearly snorts at the gesture. She doesn't, because that is very unlady-like and she needs far more drinks for that to happen. "From your compliments, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you had a crush on me," she teases him.

A flush of red creeps into his face, and he glances away. It takes the specialist a while to realize the blush is not from the drinks. And Vega doesn't meet her eyes.

Oh.

_Oh._

Traynor stares at him.

"That definitely must be the alcohol talking. I'll go get you some more water." Traynor hurries to the other end of the counter where bartender is. Vakarian is leaning against the bar, chatting to Engineer Adams.

Traynor rushes straight back.

"On second thought, let's go out for some fresh air." She tugs Vega onto his feet and is thankful the lieutenant is coordinated enough to walk by himself. She puts as much distance between them and the far side of the bar as much as possible for no suspicious reason whatsoever. She hopes Vakarian hasn't spotted them.

The doors open, and both of them feel the coolness of the artificial Presidium night. She leads him to a deck that shows a beautiful view of lit-up wards beneath them.

"Feeling any better?" She pats his back as he crumples over the railing.

"Not particularly."

"Well, at least you have a better view."

"I had a pretty good one before." He turns around and grins at her. "Still do now."

Oh, boy.

"James, I—"

He looks at her with a hopeful expression on her face. Traynor feels like she's about to kick a puppy. She feels like a monster.

"The thing is I prefer—" Shepard. "—people of a different body type. Something more slender, less—" Huge. "—muscular."

James looks down at his feet. "I got ya." Traynor doesn't feel like a monster. She knows she is one, judging by the look on his face.

"Look, you'll find another girl. I mean, why would you like someone like me anyways? I'm all bookish and nerdy, and I couldn't fight worth a damn." Really, she can't. She hurt her wrist trying out Vega' punching bag down in the shuttle bay. She told Dr. Chakwas that she slipped and injured her wrist on the stairs. She stands by that story.

"Maybe that's just what I want."

...bookish and nerdy?

"Maybe I want someone to come back to without worrying if they're dead on the front lines, if they've lying unconscious in a hospital somewhere after taking four bullets to the skull, if they haven't been turned to husks." Vega looks out at the twinkling lights above them. "Maybe I just want someone that represents the possibility of a life after all this."

"And I'm that one?" Traynor asks softly.

He smiles at her. It doesn't reach his eyes. "I guess not. It's just a stupid dream."

Well, Traynor's day doesn't feel complete until she's absolutely crushed a man's heart. She wrestles with herself briefly then gives in. She puts a hand on Vega's arm.

"James, I could never have liked you the way you wanted me to."

"Because we're two different people?"

Yes. Far too different for Traynor's taste.

"I like people who are similar to me."

His brows furrow. "So, you like other nerdy people?"

Well, that's—

"Hey, your words." He holds out his hands out in a placating manner. A smile tugs at his lips from the expression on her face.

"Well, besides that. I mean...I like people who are physically like me."

"Slim?"

"Kind of. I mean, we would have to share certain...physical attributes."

"Like dark hair?"

"You're being dense on purpose, aren't you?"

He smiles. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Traynor looks at him. "I'm sure."

He looks down at his hands. "So, I never had a chance. Sad. Kinda hot too."

Traynor pats him reassuringly on the arm. "You'll find someone else."

He nods. "You too." He rubs his face in thought. "Actually, you know what? I think Doc is single and—"

NO.

"Thank you, James, but I'm all right, " she states each word firmly.

They fall into a lull where the only noise around them are of the chatter of people entering the club. The Presidium spins its brilliant stars above them while the wards scatter lights below them like an endless reflection of the night sky. It's peaceful, and they can pretend that everything is all right for a moment.

Jame looks at her hand still on his bicep. He gets a silly grin on his face. "Hey, want to hear a joke? What's the difference between Commander Shepard and a krogan?"

"With those starting words, I'm almost certain this wouldn't be something the commander would approve of."

"Just humour me here."

"All right, then. What is the difference between Commander Shepard and a krogan?"

"One is head-butting juggernaut of destructive power while the other-"

"Doesn't have two smart-alecky subordinates gossiping about her behind her back."

Traynor nearly jumps into Vega's arms. She whips around to see the commander behind them.

"Looks like you and Vega here are enjoying yourself." Shepard's tone is clipped. Her eyes are cool. They lock onto where the specialist is touching the lieutenant's arm. Traynor quickly drops her hand.

"We were just chatting," Traynor says.

"Of course." Shepard crosses her arms. "Are you having fun at the party?"

"Yes. James was about to tell a delightful joke if—"

"I've heard it."

Well, then...

Traynor is horrified to find that her repertoire of non-Shepard-related jokes seems to have now dried up. Shepard watches her, and Traynor is sure she's turning purple from the effort of coming up with something to say.

James looks between her and Shepard. His eyes linger on the specialist's expression. He looks sad and thoughtful at the same time.

He moves past her. "Traynor was just helping me get some fresh air. Went a little overboard this time, drinks-wise," Vega says, adding an exaggerated drunken stagger and a slur, which the specialist knows he didn't have before.

Shepard eyes him. "I see. Perhaps, you should lay off the alcohol for a bit, James."

"Will do, ma'am. " He shoots a sloppy salute at Shepard then winks at the specialist before heading into Purgatory. Traynor had been developing a sore dislikes for winks, but she can't but feel that she can stand the ones from James. As exceptions.

The two women watch him stumble his way through the doors before the commander turns and walks towards the specialist. Shepard takes a look at Traynor in her black dress. She nearly trips over her own feet.

"Specialist, you look…" Shepard's eyes go everywhere before drifting up to Traynor's face. "Good."

Well, maybe the little black dress is a good idea after all.

"You like it, commander?" Traynor saunters near. She lets her hips sway a tad exaggeratedly. Shepard's gaze is drawn to them, and the specialist loves the look in the commander's eyes.

Traynor lets them sway just a little more.

"It fits you well." Shepard coughs and looks away. Traynor's not sure if the flush of red in her face is from the alcohol or something else. She's pleased by it nonetheless.

"Thank you, and your outfit—"

Shepard is wearing a crisp and simple Alliance uniform. She sticks out like a sore thumb among the more casual dressers along the Presidium.

"—looks clean." That's always nice.

The commander shrugs. "I'm a little low on clubbing clothes at the moment."

"Well, maybe when you get a break, we can stop by the shops here and get you some comfort clothes. Surely, you don't sleep in your uniform? What do you go to bed in?"

Shepard looks away. "So, enjoying the party?"

"Of course." Traynor doesn't press the issue, although she makes a note of it for future examination. "Are you, commander? I see you running around a lot."

"Got a lot of errands to do." She runs a hand through her hair, distractedly. "Had to meet with people."

"Like who?"

"Like Major Alenko."

Traynor had seen the injuries inflicted on the major first-hand. She hopes he made it. "How is he doing?"

Shepard rubs her hand. "Good." She looks away. "Alive." She rubs her hand again. She keeps her distance from Traynor.

The specialist has no idea why Shepard seems so standoffish. Is it something she said? Something she did? Something someone said? Something—

"What did Garrus say to you when you in the medbay?" Traynor blurts out before she gapes at herself.

Shepard looks puzzled. "He said you wanted to know what kinds of guns I like."

Oh. So, he did refer them as—

Traynor quickly responds, "I see. Well, as the unofficial requisition officer, it would be prudent for me to know what sorts of modifications your guns may require if I am to coordinate the acquisition of them with Lieutenant Cortez."

The commander nods in agreement, although she looks a little confused. Traynor wants to pat herself on the back for sounding so smart.

"Do you refer to my guns as 'girls' too?"

Well, she—

Traynor changes the subject. "Major Alenko is recovering, right?" At Shepard's nod, she continues. "You look stressed, Commander. How about we go back into the club and relax?"

Shepard glances at the entrance to Purgatory. Traynor takes this as a cue to lead her there. She gently tugs on the commander's hand and is delighted with how easily Shepard seems to comply. It probably doesn't hurt that the commander's eyes are on the specialist's behind the entire time. "We'll have a couple of drinks, tell each other stories of our work–"

"You mean I have to sit through hours of communication intel stories?" Shepard sounds serious, but her tone is belied by the amused flicker in her eyes.

"Only if you buy me enough drinks. I've got horror stories about poor information integration that could haunt your dreams for weeks."

Shepard mumbles something. It sounds like, 'Better than the ones I have right now'. Traynor doesn't ask.

"And then the amazing Commander Shepard can school her poor comm specialist with her amazing dance moves—"

Shepard stops cold. Her hand slips from Traynor's grip, and the specialist turns back in confusion.

"I could just watch you dance instead," Shepard offers. Her face has gone white.

"As much as I would love to dance for you personally, I'm afraid that at a club, it might have the wrong implications. Particularly, if you tip me."

The commander doesn't laugh, and Traynor is concerned. "Commander? Is something—"

"I don't dance."

Traynor frowns. "Why not?"

"Because I don't." Shepard's voice sounds higher than it should be. Traynor's not sure whether to be amused or concerned.

"You're not telling me that the great Commander Shepard has social anxiety about dancing in public, are you?"

Shepard scowls. "It's not social anxiety."

"Then what is it? What scares the woman who's head-butted legions of krogans—

"That only happened once."

"—and yet, can't face another person on the dance floor?"

Shepard just looks at her. She seems shy and hesitant like a small child. "You've never seen me dance, have you?"

No, but Traynor's sure that Shepard is just being modest or self-conscious.

"I haven't, but if you're as bad as you think you are, maybe I can help you there." Traynor tilts her head to one side, thinking. "How about if I buy you a couple of drinks and if you're feeling confident, we can hit the floor?"

The commander goes quiet. She shakes her head but lets out a small smile. "I'd still rather watch you dance."

Whatever Shepard has, it seems to be a big enough obstacle to deter her from trying. Traynor considers pushing the topic, but thinks it would be strategically more useful to steer the conversations towards other topics.

"It'd be hard though with all those other people around just to see me dance."

Shepard arches an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

Traynor doesn't know, and she's too nervous to suggest a more private lesson. "Well, you might get a better view if you were a bit more up-close, like say…a foot away."

The commander laughs. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Is that a yes then?" Traynor steps closer while Shepard doesn't move.

Shepard's eyes seem to darken as they take everything from the specialist's beautifully-styled hair to her expertly applied make-up. "It's a maybe."

Traynor takes another step. "I'm sure you can do better than that."

Shepard seems to shiver and her breathing sounds heavier. "Did you mean up-close like this?"

No, but this is pretty good too. Shepard is so near that the specialist could close the gap in a heartbeat. "I—"

The hiss of doors slides open, and a very cross, very familiar asari steps out into the Presidium night. The specialist flings herself back.

"Shepard, there you are. I have much more important things to do than—"

She stops at the sight of Traynor. Liara looks confused and panicked. Traynor would find it amusing if she didn't have the same look on her face.

"Specialist Traynor." Liara's voice sounds unsure but polite. The specialist thinks Dr. T'Soni has the best manners out of everyone she's ever met, even in the most awkward of situations.

"Dr. T'Soni, I didn't know you were attending this party."

"It is just Liara like I have said before," T'Soni mumbles. "Shepard dragged me here then abandoned me." She doesn't meet Traynor's eyes.

Shepard glances between the information broker and the specialist. "Is there something I should be aware of?"

"No!" both T'Soni and Traynor quickly blurt out. They make the mistake of making eye contact.

Shepard asks, "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing is going on. Everything is perfectly acceptable between Specialist Traynor and I." Liara rushes through the words, and Traynor wants to groan. How did T'Soni ever become an information broker when she lies like that?

"It's just that Liara and I—" Have a misunderstanding caused by Joker? Traynor wonders if it's too late to go back inside and push him over. "—had a subtle disagreement in which we realized we were both wrong and had become embarrassed over it.

Shepard looks pensive. "About what?" She glances at Liara.

"It is…embarrassing for me to say." T'Soni glances at the specialist, and Traynor is shocked to see a cool, assessing glint in Liara's eyes amidst the mortification. Part of the asari doesn't believe Joker's assertion that Traynor likes her race. The specialist is equal parts relieved and horrified at this revelation. "It is a matter of something affecting our personal relationship."

The commander crosses her arms. "Then, it would be better if we could work out this problem right now."

_No, it would not._

"No offence intended, Shepard, but this is quite a sensitive issue between Traynor and I. We will have to resolve it ourselves," Liara informs the commander to Traynor's great relief.

Shepard glances to the side. She's practically gnawing on her bottom lip.

Liara continues, "I assure you though that it will not compromise the missions or our professional working dynamics at all."

"Of course, the missions," Shepard mutters, running her hand through her hair again. She tosses her head from side to side like an agitated beast. "Always the damn missions."

"Their importance—" Liara is cut off with a wave of Shepard's hand.

"Can wait for one day." Shepard glances over the side of the Presidium where the wards can be seen for thousands of feet down. Her eyes darken again but not pleasantly. "Are you sure you can't tell me what's bothering you guys?"

"Well, would you rather listen to us talk about our feelings or intoxicate yourself with several dozen drinks instead?" Traynor says lightly. Anything to get away from this dangerous topic that could prove disastrous if something were to—

Vakarian appears.

"There you are, Liara. Don't go yet. The party's about to_…_" He spots Traynor. His mandibles twitch briefly. He grins. "...start."

Oh, no.

"Traynor, I didn't know you'd be here, outside with Liara…and Shepard." Garrus' voice is smooth. Too smooth. Traynor hates him.

Well, not really. She's really more absolutely terrified by what he may say. She already has one Joker in her life. Isn't that punishment enough?

"We simply ran into each other." Traynor tries to look nonchalant. She likes to think she succeeds. "Actually, we were just about to go back in."

"Uh-huh." Garrus looks from Liara to Shepard to her, still grinning. "Well, a few more minutes of fresh air won't hurt. What were you three discussing?"

Traynor says, "It's not important."

He eyes the three ladies. "Somehow, I don't believe that. What do you think, Shepard?"

The commander stares at Liara and Traynor. "I think there's something these two aren't not telling me."

"I see." Garrus crosses his arms over his chest.

Shepard frowns. "Do you know something, Garrus?"

"Do I?" Vakarian's eyes flick towards Traynor, and the specialist freezes.

She tries to change the subject. "I'm sure the party's already underway—"

"You seem agitated," Garrus comments off-handedly. "Why don't you talk about what's bothering you? We're all friends here." He looks at her, and Traynor swears he seems to be smirking.

Bastard. She's ordering the really cheap dextro food next time.

Garrus taps a claw to his chin. "Could it be someone in particular who's agitating your thoughts?"

Liara glances sharply at her, and Traynor wishes she could sink right through the floor and into space. "That's just preposterous, Garrus. There's no one that bothers me on Normandy."

"I think he's onto something," Shepard says slowly. "Why don't we begin with why you and Liara can't seem to look at each other?"

What? They can look at each other perfectly fi—

Traynor glances at Liara at the same time the asari looks at her. They whip their heads away as if making eye contact could spread an epidemic disease. Shepard doesn't say a word but she bites her bottom lip. Hard.

"I see." The commander's voice has gone cool again. She straightens up, and suddenly Shepard reminds the specialist of a tall and distant tower, impenetrable and unapproachable. "I'll have to turn down that dance, Specialist. I suddenly remember that I have lots of work to be done." She abruptly turns and walks away. Shepard blends into the crowd before Traynor can call out to her.

The three left behind are silent for a moment.

"Huh, I wasn't expecting that." Vakarian looks genuinely confused. "What were you guys talking about?"

Traynor is certain that it was what they _weren't_ talking about that sent Shepard stomping off.

"I'm sure the commander just needs some space." Traynor turns so Vakarian can't see that she desperately wants to follow Shepard. The commander probably got the wrong impression about Liara and Traynor's relationship. Speaking of which…

She looks back at T'Soni, who averts her gaze. Garrus frowns when he takes in the whole scene.

"What is going on?" The turian sniper steps up to both of them. "Liara, what did you talk to Traynor about?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Liara turns away from either of the two. She fidgets with her coat. "I believe I will take my leave as well."

Traynor doesn't want to be left with Vakarian, but between the sly turian and the awkward air with Dr. T'Soni...

"I think I'll head back inside," Traynor says. She hopes that this time, she can drink enough to pretend none of this ever happened. On her way to the entrance, she looks back to see Vakarian discussing something with Liara, who shakes her head fervently. Whatever they are talking about seems important.

The specialist is in no mood to deal with it. She heads into the club where her senses are drowned out by the music, the laughter, and sound of desperate people dancing.

* * *

Traynor's heels ache so much, she thinks they're bleeding. She boards the eerily silent Normandy and waits for decontamination to finish. Most of the crew are still at Purgatory, and those that aren't have retreated to sleep or other noiseless activities.

She's tired, depressed, and sure that Shepard thinks the specialist likes her ex. She's also horribly sober, because she couldn't quite bring herself to drown her woes with alcohol. Why can't things go right for a change?

"Specialist Traynor." EDI breaks in overhead. "There is something I need to talk to you about in the Starboard Observation Deck."

"Can it wait until morning?" Traynor doesn't feel the passion for discussing Joker problems right now.

"I would highly advise you to discuss it now. Opportunities may be missed later."

Traynor doesn't know what that means, but she sighs as she makes her way down to the deck. Soft lights sweep in towards her when the doors open. The stars and the Citadel's arms loom in the window like distant and sleeping colossi. Traynor feels so insignificant.

Something shifts in the corner, and Traynor looks. She nearly screams when she sees someone else there. She almost screams again when she realizes it's Shepard.

"Specialist," the commander acknowledges. She grabs the glass by her side. "Came to join me for a drink?" She steps forward, and Traynor can see how strained her smile is.

"Commander." Traynor glances at the bottles lying on the shelf behind Shepard. "Is this the important work you needed to do?"

Shepard shrugs and tosses back the rest of her drink. She smacks her lips together, staring at the glass in her hand. "It's not the same," she mumbles.

"What isn't?"

Shepard sighs. "Drinking." She mumbles something else. Traynor can't catch it. From the expression on her face and her grip on the glass, Traynor half-expects Shepard to hurl it into something.

The commander slumps into a couch instead. Traynor hesitates for a moment before sitting down some distance from her.

"What are you doing here?"

The specialist winces at Shepard's sharp tone. "Just checking up on you."

"I told EDI not to tell anyone I was here."

"Yes, well…she didn't."

Technically.

Traynor scoots a little closer, feeling the perspiration forming on her back. "I wanted to know how you were doing."

Shepard snorts. "Fine."

"You don't seem all that fine." Traynor thinks about the empty bottles of whiskey she saw cluttering the table in the corner.

Shepard looks down through the bottom of her glass. "Did you know that I have to drink Ryncol to feel anything at all? I should have died from alcohol poisoning three times over already."

Does Shepard want to experience alcohol poisoning? Traynor can't say she approves of the attempt.

"Maybe you've had enough for the night." Traynor gently pries the glass from Shepard's fingers. The slumped woman lets go easily. The specialist is worried.

"Commander," Traynor pauses then slowly reaches out towards Shepard's face.

Shepard turns away. "What's between you and Liara?"

"Nothing," whispers Traynor truthfully.

It's clear from the set of the commander's jaw that she doesn't believe her.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Shepard, there's nothing going on."

"Do you want her?"

"Do you?"

When Shepard doesn't answer, Traynor stands up. Her eyes sting. It must be her allergies acting up on the clean Normandy, in the sterile room. Must be. Damn things.

She moves to the center of the room and gestures towards the sitting woman. She ignores the sick feeling in her stomach. "Come here."

The commander doesn't look like she heard, but then she gets up.

Traynor says, "You said you didn't dance, right? I'll assume it's because you don't know how to."

Shepard frowns. "You could say that."

"I'll teach you to dance then. Free of charge for the Commander Shepard."

Shepard steps closer. "Why?"

"We only live—well, most of us only live once." Traynor holds her hand out to the commander. "So, why not?"

Shepard glances at the proffered hand. "There's no music."

"I can take care of that, Commander," EDI chimes in, rather eagerly. A second later, slow-dancing music with a soft jazz edge fills the room. "I believe this is appropriate music for the simple dance Traynor wishes to teach you."

Subtle, EDI. Subtle.

Shepard looks up at the ceiling. "Privacy lock, EDI."

EDI acknowledges the order. "Engaging."

And then they are alone. A bitter smile wounds its way onto the commander's face. "I can't be with Liara."

Traynor tries to keep the attitude light. "Too many bad memories?"

Shepard flinches. She looks away with something like shame in her eyes. Why is Traynor such a monster this evening?

"Let's not talk about it. Let's just dance."

Traynor maintains her gaze with the hesitant woman. At last, Shepard reaches out a hand to take hers.

The specialist has watched the combat vids from the squad's helmet cams on their last several missions. She has seen Shepard practically weave her way through hails of bullets, explosives, and heavily-armoured troops. The woman is a goddess of war on the battlefield, like a primal wind deity in Earth's old Greek mythology. She can dodge a charging krogan-hybrid monster half the size of a Mako. Traynor wonders why the commander can't seem to miss the specialist's feet.

"Sorry," Shepard apologizes yet again. She moves her boot off Traynor's raw-feeling instep.

"That's all right." Traynor feels like she should go toe-to-toe with Dr. T'Soni's poker face, given how professionally she's held in her winces of pain. Figuratively or literally. Liara has smaller feet.

"Sorry."

"Maybe we should try something—" They can't go any slower. "—different. You seem tense, Commander. You should relax." Traynor gently glides her fingers across the commander's nape and massages the tense muscles bunched there. Shepard moves into the touch before something comes into her eyes.

The commander steps back. "That was…" She shifts her feet. "EDI, cut the sound."

The music clicks off a minute later. It's just Traynor and Shepard in the silence of the Starboard Observation Deck. The specialist has never felt her heart pump so hard in her life.

Shepard looks at her. "You like Liara."

"I don't." Traynor moves towards her. Shepard is the last person she wants to think that. "She's not my type."

"What is your type?" Shepard steps away. They're doing a different kind of dance now. Traynor does not like it one bit.

"Tough, adventurous, strong." Traynor takes both of Shepard's hands into her own. She can see white scars crisscrossing over each other. There are lumpy calcium deposits everywhere from the numerous times the commander has broken them. They are not pretty or well-maintained, but they are real. They are the hands of the person responsible for saving trillions of lives.

Shepard tries to pull them back, but Traynor doesn't let go.

"Maybe something else would be better."

Traynor hums a gentle tune and pulls the commander along. Shepard is reluctant at first but manages to match the specialist step for step.

"Why don't you dance, Commander? You seem to be picking it up well." Relatively.

Shepard is silent for a long time. When she speaks, her tone sounds measured. "I don't remember how to."

"What do you mean you don't remember how to? Does that mean you could before?" teases Traynor lightly. She's concerned by the spasm of something undefinable across the commander's face.

"Whether you believe it or not," Shepard says slowly, "I was at some point a decent dancer. Or at least not a terrible one." She goes quiet.

Traynor thinks of prompting her when the commander finally speaks.

"When I was resurrected, Ceberus hadn't finished refining everything they were working on. My brain had been left for last. Replicating the exact neurochemical and physical structure of it was such a delicate and advanced operation that the technology to do it wasn't even available until Ceberus decided to work on me. They weren't finished when I was brought back."

Traynor doesn't like where this is going. "And?"

"And there are some things I don't remember. How to dance is one." Shepard shrugs as if missing parts of your memories is a completely natural occurrence.

Traynor stops moving but still holds onto Shepard's hand. "What other sorts of things did you forget?"

"Mostly little things, like people's faces and names or little-used skills."

"But that's it, right? No major things?"

Shepard doesn't answer. She looks down at their entwined hands. She looks sad. "What did Liara tell you?"

Traynor starts dancing again, and the topic slips away. She doesn't want to think about the implications. Neither does Shepard.

The specialist listens to the quiet taps of their footsteps and the commander's soft breathing. She just wants to pretend for a moment that everything is all right, and things can work out.

After some point, the two stop dancing and stand there, their bodies fitting naturally against one another's like pieces of a puzzle. Traynor knows she's playing a dangerous game, but she doesn't care. She thinks she's already lost the advantage, if not the task. The evidence of the thought tugs deep inside her whenever she looks into Shepard's eyes.

"That was nice." Shepard steps away. "You're an excellent teacher, Specialist."

"Thank you, Commander. And you were an excellent pupil." The next words slip out before she could stop them. "I could teach you more if you have free time."

Shepard seems to consider it. "I'd like that."

Traynor stops breathing. She's not too sure if Shepard is serious. "Really? I would think whatever with all the galaxy-saving, you would have little time for a dance lesson."

"For the things you want, you make time." Shepard keeps her gaze on her. "I'm sure you agree."

The specialist is still not breathing. She's far too happy to remember little things like air. Oxygen is surely overrated and—

She's talking with the wrong person for this. Right. Traynor's just happy to have something go her way for once.

"I'll send you the times of when I'm free." The commander taps a reminder into her omni-tool while Traynor is still too giddy to form any type of complex thoughts.

"Good. I'll be waiting for them."

Shepard smiles. Her eyes glitter beautifully like the stars behind her.

"And I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

**Author's Endnotes**: I was partly through making this when I realized I had forgotten how to write my story =/

Guess that'll teach me for taking a month-long hiatus.


	6. Mothers Pt1

**Author's Note:** I had a bit of a crazy last few weeks with job hopping and other stuff. Really missed writing this story. Originally meant it to be longer...and more depressing, but I split up the chapter and was reasonably satisfied with how this turned out. Hopefully, it's also all right for you guys too.

Incidentally, I'm doing the National November Writing Month Challenge, which essentially is a task to churn out 50,000 words within 30 days. I assume, at some point, it'll be fun. However, it also means that I probably will be unable to update for about a while. Sorry about that, and thanks to all those following this story.

* * *

There's a krogan on board.

Traynor tries not to make eye contact, but the reptilian alien seems to insist on getting her attention. Mostly by blocking her way. It's rather easy work when you're the size of a large fridge.

"Human," the krogan rumbles, a bass note so deep, Traynor could feel it reverberating in her chest.

"Urdnot Wrex," Traynor replies, evenly. It's a bit unnerving to have the leader of billions of krogans standing in front of her.

She wonders why she keeps going to the mess hall. Bad things happen when she goes to the mess hall.

He sniffs at her, and a long tongue flicks at the air in front of her. Traynor manages not to flinch, although the handle of her coffee cup is starting to cut into her hand.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Wrex nods slowly. "I could use a good meal."

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the krogan diet—"

"We'll eat pretty much anything, even other krogans." He smiles at her, revealing an alarming amount of sharp, hook-like teeth. "We especially like the taste of human flesh."

The taste of—

"Wrex, stop trying to frighten my crew." Shepard appears from behind the large krogan.

"I'm not trying, Shepard." He looks at Traynor and shows off his tiny, serrated teeth again. "I am."

The commander takes one look at the specialist's face and frowns. "C'mon, Wrex. Don't you have a fertile female to look after?"

"And a couple of billion krogans." He thumps himself on the chest. "Your people seem softer than what I remember."

Shepard says, "We are missing a krogan this time around. Would you like to donate one?"

"I need all my people for keeping the Reapers off of our humps, but if I can find a small one, I'll send him your way," he laughs, a deep chuckle that Traynor can practically feel.

Shepard rolls her eyes as she ushers him away from the mess hall. She comes back and pulls a chair behind the frozen woman. "At ease, Specialist."

Traynor sits down without another word. She sips her coffee docilely.

Urdnot Wrex has a lot of sharp teeth.

"Don't take what he says to heart," Shepard says, worriedly. "It means he likes you."

Implying that he might eat her is a gesture of affection?

"Well, if he didn't like you, he would've just ignored you," the commander explains after seeing her comm specialist's face. "Anyways, I hope you're ready. There's a lot of intel coordination between the salarians, krogans, and humans. You'll be busy for a while."

"I'll be fine, Commander." Traynor turns her eyes upwards to a spot above Shepard's brow where several more angry scars cross the commander's forehead. An ATLAS mech on Sur'Kesh had blasted a rocket so close to the soldier that the resulting sharpnel shredded the left side of her helmet. Shepard walks around like she hasn't noticed that half of her face was nearly blown off.

"You should take better care of yourself, Commander."

When Shepard looks confused, Traynor taps her own forehead to point out the new marks on the commander's face.

Shepard touches the angry scars on her brow. "Oh. Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?"

That is not an indicator of good health.

"You need better standards."

Shepard leans back on the table. A curious smile crosses her face. "I don't know. I think I've got some pretty good standards already." She looks at the specialist who feels a blush coming on.

"Flattery will get you many places, Commander." Traynor reaches up to trace the lines on Shepard's face. "Carelessness just gets you the medbay."

Shepard's eyes crinkle. She moves the hand gently away. They're still in the middle of the mess hall. "At least, I would have company."

Traynor glances at the medbay window. The female krogan from Sur'Kesh is sitting on one of the beds while the salarian doctor hovers near the medical equipment. The specialist swears she can hear him singing sometimes whenever she passes by the medbay.

"Her name is Eve," Shepard says, as if she can read minds. "You should talk to her. It's a very…enlightening experience."

"She wouldn't also say that she likes the taste of human flesh, would she?"

"Can't say."

Great. Well, as long as Traynor isn't required to go in the medbay for any reason, she can—

Shepard taps something into her omni-tool. "Oh, by the way, Mordin said that Eve could use another blanket. When you have free time, can you get one for her?"

Dammit, Shepard.

The omni-tool beeps, and the commander frowns when she peers at the message. "I have go. The Primarch wants to discuss something." She shakes her head. "I'll see you around."

Not if the krogans eat her first. Traynor tries not to scowl as she watches Shepard leave. The commander doesn't notice.

Glaring at the commander's back doesn't seem to get the specialist's displeasure across. Traynor makes a note to write a strongly-worded letter to Shepard later about volunteering your crew members for dangerous tasks.

…actually, she probably gets those a lot. Well, a strong word in any case.

Traynor approaches the med-bay some time later with a blanket in her arms**.** The sheet she grabbed could cover a small, specialized ground team. She hopes it is enough.

Eve sits, huddled, on one of the medbay beds. When Traynor approaches, she can see the faint tremors running through her body.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you needed another blanket to keep you warm." Or four.

The krogan turns her head slowly towards the specialist, her yellow eyes unblinking. Traynor finds her own starting to water from the effort of maintaining eye contact.

"I would. Thank you." Eve's voice is deep and commanding, like Wrex's but her tone touches a part of Traynor's brain that automatically makes her stand a little straighter. She reminds the specialist of Shepard.

She reaches out a hand for the blanket, and Traynor steps up to throw them around her shoulders. Or try to in any case.

"Your captain and your crew have been very kind to me." Eve pulls the rest of the blanket over her hump where the specialist has awkwardly left it.

Well, it would be rather bad manners to be rude to the only krogan that could save her entire race from extinction.

Maybe Traynor should get another blanket.

Eve stares at her, and it is only when the krogan blinks that the specialist realizes it is because she was gaping first. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. I've just—" Never seen a female krogan before. They're dressed much nicer than the male ones.

Eve chuckles. "I've been through worse."

And she has. Traynor has read the reports of the conditions down in Sur'Kesh. "I'm sorry to hear about your sisters."

Eve closes her eyes. "They were strong, but they returned to the Void, as we all will one day."

Traynor isn't sure what to say. There are questions she wants to ask now that she's face-to-face with Eve, but she's unsure of how to word them tactfully.

"Are you curious about my clothes? You seem to be staring at them a lot," Eve points out.

"What? No! Well, yes…well, if you don't mind." If she really doesn't mind.

"I am a female shaman. Among my people, that is extraordinarily rare. It's no mean feat, and females that have risen above the despair of giving birth to stillborn children are uncommon in themselves."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It's amazing you managed to do that yourself."

Eve stares off at something in the distance Traynor can't see. She speaks quietly. "I haven't."

Traynor seems to be bad about this whole tact thing. Maybe she should leave. Eve continues talking before she could.

"Have you any young ones yourself?"

"Umm...no." Not any that she knows of in any case.

"Maybe you should. You seem like you would make a good mother." Eve's eyes flicker over her. "And you have a good, strong body for bearing children. Very fertile-looking."

...thank you?

"The other races don't understand what the genophage is to us...the envy and anger that fills us when we see others having children so carelessly and abandoning them. We especially have a lot to say about salarian child-rearing."

Traynor'd imagine so, yes. She looks at Eve critically with her lips pressed together. "And how are you feeling?"

"Tired. Dr. Solus doesn't want me to worry, but I can read him all the same. The cure's weakened me. Going down to my native Tuchanka may be a death sentence." Eve shakes her head. "But I'm going anyways."

"Because of your fellow krogans?"

"Because we might have a future. Our race might survive. We might even flourish like we once did. That's worth any risk."

Traynor notices that Eve has closes her eyes and that her trembling has gotten worse. She quietly excuses herself with a line about urgent duties.

"It was good talking to you, Specialist Traynor." Eve doesn't open her eyes. She doesn't move. Inside the blanket, she almost seems shrunken and withered. It looks like a shroud.

Dr. Solus pops up out of nowhere. "Female krogan immune system very fragile. Can't sustain long conversations. Must give her time to rest." He ushers the specialist out the medbay with the efficiency of a fierce maternity ward nurse. He offers to run experiments on her genetic code when he is done with the genophage cure. Traynor politely turns down his offer.

She spends the day thinking about her own parents. She hasn't gotten any responses from them. She hopes it just means that comm buoys in the Iera system are out. She hopes it doesn't mean anything else.

Dr. T'Soni is in the mess hall. The asari averts her eyes when she sees Traynor and continues her struggle with the coffee machine on the counter. Traynor considers leaving to avoid the inevitable awkwardness that would come. She takes pity on Liara instead and pulls the wretched thing away from her.

"Here," she gives it two sharp raps on the side, and the coffee flows obediently into a cup, "this thing is quite temperamental."

"Thank you." Liara takes the proffered cup with something of a flush on her face. Traynor can't tell if that's from the physical exertion or the embarrassment of losing to a coffee machine.

"It's no problem. You'd be surprised at the amount of soldiers who've had their egos crushed by this little thing." She pats the machine like it's a mischievous pet who's done an adorably bad deed.

"I have little doubt of that." Liara eyes it warily. "If it were not for the fact that I need some substance to keep me awake, I would not even have bothered."

"Asari drink coffee?"

"Somewhat. It is noticeably weaker than our version back home." Liara pours an additional three cups. "This should be adequate enough for a few hours."

Traynor notices that the hollows around T'Soni's eyes are more pronounced and darker. It doesn't help that the asari still has a black eye from the fighting on Sur'Kesh. "When was the last time you've slept?"

Liara pauses and has to scroll through her omni-tool to check.

"All right. Maybe coffee isn't the answer." She tries to gently pull the cups away when Liara tightens her grip.

"I am afraid I must insist, Specialist. Sleep is a luxury for people in my line of business." She reaches out a hand towards a cup as the same time as the specialist. Their hands touch, and they practically jump away.

"I'm sorry—'

"I apologize—"

T'Soni doesn't meet her eyes. Traynor is getting pretty tired of this Joker-caused confusion. Perhaps, it's time to settle this.

"Liara, there's something I need to tell you."

T'Soni nearly drops her cups. Something like terror flits across her face. "It is not necessary, Specialist. I am satisfied with where we are. As colleagues."

Oh, for—

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. Remember what Joker said some evenings ago. About…about…me liking…" Traynor fidgets with her fingers. Liara is suddenly fascinated with the tiles on the floor.

Hmmm...this is actually turning out to be a terrible idea. Good to know.

"The truth is that I…like…"

"Shepard."

Traynor freezes.

"Pardon me?" she squeaks.

Liara points to something behind her. "Commander Shepard is coming. Whatever you need to discuss has to wait for later." Her tone could not sound more relieved. She squeezes by the specialist. "Another time, Traynor."

Traynor watches as T'Soni gives a brief nod to the commander before rounding the corner to her cabin. And she managed to make off with two cups of coffee too. Damn.

"What were you and Liara discussing?" Shepard comes up, looking curious.

"The effects of human coffee on the asari nervous system."

"Ah. It's pitiful, really." Shepard nods. "Chocolate's another matter." She picks up a cup and sips it. She makes a face.

"Lukewarm." She taps some buttons on the coffee machine, hits it solidly once when it starts to protest, and sips her coffee with some satisfaction this time. "How is Eve?"

"She reminds me a lot of you, Commander."

"Really? I seem to be over eight feet and close to 300 kilos to you?"

…sometimes.

Shepard laughs. "Relax, Traynor. I'm joking." She shakes her head, smiling. "But yes, Eve makes for good company. She's certainly a better conversationalist than many other krogans I've met."

The commander's probably made their acquaintance at the end of her shotgun. Really hard to come up with a topic starter there.

"Anything else you guys talked about?

"Yes." Traynor thinks of her own parents. "Shepard, have you been in contact with your mother?"

"No."

The bluntness of the answer startles the specialist. "Why not?"

"She's probably busy fighting coordinating forces and sending strategic strikes against the Reapers." Shepard shrugs. "Besides, getting any message out to her when the Reapers have knocked out the comm buoys in half of the star systems is nearly impossible."

There are only two ships in the entire Alliance navy that are outfitted with their own QEC. The Normandy is one. The other is Hackett's ship. Still…

"I could find and contact her for you," Traynor offers.

Shepard shakes her head. "If I know her, she'll just be irritated that I'm halting her from destroying more Reaper forces. Probably be surprised that I'm still alive." Her smile is more than a touch bitter.

Traynor remembers the holo of the broken woman at her daughter's funeral. She definitely seemed like she would care if Shepard lives or dies.

"Do you not get along with your mother?"

Shepard's eyes grow distant. "No, I can't say that. It's hard to not get along with someone who's never there."

"I—" Completely did not spend an unusually large amount of time researching you. "—heard that you jump around from station to station a lot."

Shepard nods. "I did, but it was my grandparents who took care of me. My mother always seemed to be charging off to fight somewhere."

So…like mother, like daughter.

"But you followed in her footsteps."

"I hadn't meant to, but after what happened on Mindoir..." Shepard runs a hand absent-mindedly through her hair. "She was one of the first responders to the colony's distress signal, even though she was only supposed to be on observation only. She saw what the batarians did."

Everyone who grew up in the colonies knows what happened at Mindoir. They pray it never happens to them and prepare for the day it does.

Shepard's smile turns wry. "She said she was the worst soldier ever promoted in the history of the Alliance, always refusing to follow orders she found senseless and having the audacity to argue with the Brass on her actions. And the crazy thing is that sometimes she'd win."

...so, like mother, like daughter still.

Traynor asks, "Are you sure you don't want to contact her? You don't know if you'll ever see her again."

Shepard goes quiet. "I should." She looks away. "I could always ask Liara to find her when she's got some free time."

Traynor is about to offer to contact her again when Shepard suddenly turns to her. "What about you? Have you talked to your parents?"

Traynor thinks of the unanswered messages she's sent to her parents' place on Horizon. "No. I expect they're keeping low or…" She doesn't finish her sentence. She can't.

Shepard's eyes soften. "You can use the QEC if you want. I know there's one stationed on Horizon the last time I checked."

The specialist holds her breath. She has thought about it. "That's reserved for—"

"Special permission from the captain herself." Shepard claps a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it. "Think of it as an additional side benefit from working on the fastest ship in the galaxy with the best-looking captain."

Traynor's sure Shepard is just joking. She looks at the specialist with the expression of someone expecting a friend to join in their good humour. Traynor looks down and turns a bright red instead.

Well, Shepard _is_ really pretty. Does she not notice this herself?

Traynor is about to let loose a witty and hopefully flirty remark when Joker breaks in overhead.

"Commander, entering Tuchanka's atmosphere in ten."

"Thanks, Joker." Shepard stands up and punches something in her omni-tool. "Tell James and Garrus to meet me down in the cargo bay."

"Aye, aye, Commander," he replies before cutting himself off.

Traynor is thrown off by the suddenly serious expression on Shepard's face. "What's going on?"

"Personal errand for the Primarch. We need to pick up something suspiciously secret off of Tuchanka." She turns around and waves to her. "Given my luck, it's probably something like a deactivated Reaper or more Cerberus troops. Or maybe we'll have to blow something up. It'd be an interesting change of pace." Shepard laughs as she disappears into the elevator

Traynor wishes Shepard would take the potential hazard_s _to her life a tad more seriously. She sighs and ditches her cup in the sink. She should get back to work.

Hopefully, whatever the Primarch needs is nothing too serious.

* * *

Shepard has not returned from her mission. There is something involving 'complications' of very grave consideration if the commander's tone and the Primarch's behavior are any indication. Traynor hopes it isn't anything any more dangerous than normal. She wouldn't want anyone to get hurt.

Liara is in the hall again. She sits with her head cradled in her hands. It doesn't look like the coffee has done her any good.

Traynor supposes offering more would be an inadequate solution to this situation. She tentatively calls out instead.

"Would you like some company, Liara?"

Liara doesn't answer. Traynor slowly moves closer until she's standing in front of the asari. Her obviously well-thought out plan ends here.

"Liara?"

When she gets no response, Traynor tentatively—and probably unwisely—reached out a hand to touch the asari's shoulder.

She counts to three. She's not instantly trapped in a singularity bubble. She's not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one.

Traynor shakes Liara gently. "What's the matter?"

Liara stirs, as if from a deep sleep. "Traynor…nothing is the matter. I was just thinking."

Right, and that's why her eyes are rimmed a bright red.

Traynor asks, "Do you wish you were with Shepard?"

Liara looks at her sharply.

"On the ground team, I mean." Not that she meant the other—

In retrospect, Traynor's foot does not taste very good in her mouth. She wonders how it keeps ending up there with T'Soni around.

Liara looks down. Traynor's suddenly reminded of what Shepard had implied about Liara's knowledge of the commander's lost memories. Although she's curious, now is probably not the best time to ask.

"Shepard's one of the best soldiers I have ever seen. If anyone can pull off an suicidally dangerous mission, it's her. Plus, she's been through worse." Like dying. And more suicide missions.

T'Soni doesn't answer. Traynor waits for a couple of moments then decides her awkward patting really isn't doing much for the mood. She's about to make an excuse to leave when Liara speaks.

"I hate waiting on the Normandy while she gets shot at down there."

A simple sentence, but the amount of information Liara reveals about herself in it in mind-blowing. Traynor freezes. She wonders if this is a trap.

"I worry for her," Liara lets out softly. She looks genuinely upset.

Honestly, Traynor thinks someone should. Shepard's not very good at taking care of herself if those new scars are any indication.

Liara is staring at her, and Traynor gets the suspicion that her latest thoughts didn't just stay inside her head.

Oops.

"You know what I mean, right? The way the commander just bowls into battle like she's got permanent blood rage—" Like some sort of mother of all angry krogans. "—and starts swinging away with her shotgun like she's forgotten it has a trigger." Just stop, Samantha. Stop.

To her surprise, Liara smiles. "I know. I was there the last few fights to witness it."

Traynor's gaze follows the lines of bruises that run down the side of Liara's face. The asari had met with a surge of the most unfriendly Cerberus troops when Eve was being rescued. Most of them had been reduced to the size of subatomic particles. Singularity is terrifying indeed.

"Do they hurt?"

Liara shakes her head. "Not any more. I suppose a combination of Dr. Chakwas' medication and sleep deprivation will have that effect."

Does no one on this ship take care of their health?

Without thinking, Traynor reaches out and touches the swollen flesh of Liara's jaw. The asari flinches slightly but turns to her. Even beaten and bruised, Liara still looks beautiful.

That is so unfair.

"You need to take care of yourself more. We can't have everyone looking like Shepard."

Liara laughs and pushes her hand away. "My appearance is really the last thing I should worry about."

Traynor is really thinking more about her well-being, but appearance is important too.

"Honestly, I don't think the commander is asking you to give up your pretty face for the missions."

Liara shakes her head. "You do not understand what I would give up for Shepard."

Her health shouldn't really be one of them. Traynor is sure that if the commander were here, she'd agree. Hypocritically so, but nonetheless.

A few moments of silence pass between them. Traynor is a bit curious as to why T'Soni is out in the mess hall. She asks cautiously, "Was there something you need to do here, Liara? Rather than in your cabin?"

"No, I just—" The datapads under Liara's fingers shift a bit. "—I need some time away from my monitors." She shakes her head. "I will be back at them in a moment."

Of course, that's why Liara was looking like she wanted to cry in the middle of the hall. It has nothing to do with the fact that some of her closest friends are being shot to death below them, or the fact that she's injured, tired, clearly overworking herself, and perhaps needing to talk to someone.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Liara looks irritated. "I came out for some time away from my screens."

Traynor's still unconvinced, but finds nothing on Liara's face to suggest that she is lying. She just finds it hard to believe that the normally secretive asari would sit out in the middle of the mess hall with her emotions so exposed, just to get away from her monitors.

The specialist takes a closer look at the datapads underneath T'Soni's fingers. They bear news about the various planets still struggling against the Reapers' attacks. There are ones on Tuchanka, Earth, and Palaven. Is Liara also distressed over her homeworld?

"How is Thessia?"

"Less prepared than they should be." There's a slight crease between Liara's eyebrow markings. "Given the generous resources and warnings the asari had of the impending invasion, I do not understand why they are devoting so little time to the war effort." There is a hint of apprehension in her voice. "How has the news been from Earth?"

"Frightening." Traynor gazes at her fingers, looking very slender and surreal. "The things I've heard about what the Reapers are doing to people...it makes me wonder if we can actually win this war." The words slip out without her consent. Traynor is horrified by this expression of doubt.

Liara gazes at her. "We will because we must." There's something almost sympathetic in her eyes. Traynor's not sure if she's imagining it. Is fatigue contagious? "Are your relatives there?"

"No, my parents are on Horizon—" Something flickers through Liara's eyes at the name. "—but I haven't heard anything from them yet." Traynor looks away. "What about you? Have you heard from your—your friends?"

Everyone knows about Matriarch Benezia. Traynor has heard the stories of indoctrination back then, and while she had been skeptical of the concept, after fighting with Shepard, she has little doubt that everything the commander has said about the Reapers was true. Especially about what they can do to your thoughts.

Liara goes quiet. "All my friends are on the Normandy. Those who are not are either fighting down below or have gone missing."

A situation like so many other people's on the ship. Traynor closes her eyes and tries to still her whirling thoughts. Her conversations with Eve and Shepard comes to the forefront of her mind.

"Liara, have you heard anything from Captain Shepard?"

T'Soni's eyes flick away then come back. "Why do you ask?"

"I just think Shepard should reconcile with her mother in case this whole war goes bad."

Liara flinches at Traynor's words.

"I have not heard anything from Captain Hannah for a while. One hopes that she is fine and fighting just as fiercely as her daughter," Liara quickly says. There's something about her eyes that the specialist has trouble trusting.

Before she can ask, Joker interrupts them overhead. Traynor can hear the relief in his voice. "Mission completed. Ground team is boarding the Normandy now."

"Well," Liara gets up, "I am glad Shepard came back from this mission in one piece."

Probably relatively. Traynor gets up as well. "Are you coming down to the shuttle bay to greet them with me?"

"No, Specialist. That is all right. I know the team will be fine if they have made it back, but I...enjoyed our talk together. Perhaps, we can do it again in the future." Liara touches her hand briefly then looks at her. Traynor is shocked to find that Dr. T'Soni's expression almost seems shy.

Liara takes a few steps towards her cabin only to turn back again to gaze at Traynor. Her look almost seems soft...and something else. She leaves without another word.

Traynor is puzzled and just a tad frightened of the expression in the asari's eyes when she looked back.

It almost seems as if Liara is...

Nah, couldn't be. It's probably a trap, if nothing else? Right? Right.

Traynor keeps telling herself that the entire elevator ride down.


	7. Fathers

**Author's Note:** Had a super busy two months or so. Wanted to get this out earlier but better late than never, right?

...right?

On another note, Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to anyone celebrating them. If you want to maintain the festive cheer, I would recommend putting off reading this until the holidays are over, because you may get slightly depressed after finishing this chapter.

You have been warned.

* * *

Sunlight streams high overhead. Traynor finds herself blinking at the intensity. It feels like the Citadel is turning up the lights every time she visits. She wonders if they think that making things more pleasant here will make the war happening beyond the artificial sunshine and sky less real.

"Want an actual drink this time?"

Traynor turns to face the scowling asari bartender at Café Apollo. The Normandy has taken a brief detour at the Citadel to stock up on supplies before heading back to Tuchanka. Dr. Solus is excited about something, and he requests that they head back to the krogan homeworld as soon as possible. Urdnot Wrex has also gotten more serious. He spends the day coordinating his forces instead of teasing the specialist about eating her.

Eve seems thinner than ever.

"Hello?" A blue hand flashes in front of her face. "Do all humans have this short of an attention span or is it just the ones I run into?"

Traynor shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I was preoccupied." She pushes the empty cup across the counter. "Just coffee, please, if you don't mind."

The asari snorts. She shoots Traynor a look and the specialist glances away.

People rush by, their voices blending into soft murmurs in the background. The crowd around them shifts and breaks like a quiet tide. Traynor wonders why she feels so alone.

"So, what's your deal?" The bartender swirls her cloth rag along the counter almost lazily. Her blue skin shimmers under the Presidium's light. "You got someone you're pining for?"

Yes, but that isn't what is currently preoccupying her.

Traynor shifts in her seat. "It's nothing, really."

The bartender looks at her like she's a terrible liar, but doesn't press. "So, you've been nursing that cold coffee for an hour now because you're in love with it?" She eyes the specialist. "Or someone?"

"That's preposterous. I am merely enjoying a drink in the Presidium." Traynor takes a sip determinedly and manages not to make a face at the bitter brew. Her tongue is practically demanding a scraping of her taste buds. "It's delicious."

"Uh-huh." The bartender looks less than impressed at Traynor's statement. "So, what is eating you?"

The specialist has finally received correspondence from her family on Horizon. Her mother is still alive and fighting. Supply lines to the colony have been cut off or severely reduced due to the Reaper invasion.

It's only a matter of time.

"I don't suppose you've heard anything from your family?" Traynor notices the bartender stiffening and hastily backtracks. "I'm sorry. That was very nosy of me. I—"

"Damn right, it was." The server looks away. "But it doesn't take away from the fact that I have less and less family each day."

Traynor has too many moments where she wishes she could sink through the floor and into space.

"I'm sor—"

The bartender waves her off. "You've got nothing to do with it. It's the damn Reapers and time." She pauses for a moment then laughs. It is not a happy sound. "I have a daughter out there, somewhere, who doesn't know that I exist."

"Have you contacted her? Surely, she would like to know about you. After all, you're her mother."

"Father."

"Fath—" Traynor pauses and frowns. How does that work?

She takes one look at the bartender's face and decides not to ask. For a second, her throat closes up. She tries not to think of her own father.

"Father, right. I don't think it would hurt with everything going on to let her know you're alive."

The bartender is silent. She rubs her crest in thought. "I think…we should stick to me giving you advice. No offence or anything, but it's not as simple as that."

Traynor frowns but doesn't press the issue. It's not her business to get involved. Still…

"Neither she nor you might be here tomorrow. It's worth a try at least, isn't it?"

The cafe worker shakes her head. "If I had a chance…" She takes a look at the specialist's cup and dumps the contents before refilling it with hot coffee. "But enough about my sad life. So, who is he?"

"She," Traynor corrects automatically.

"Right. So, what's her deal? Too good for you?"

"No, that's not—" Shepard's saved the galaxy twice. Traynor managed to cobble together turian intel with salarian surveillance into a barely comprehensive whole. EDI helped. "She's busy."

"What's so important that she can't spare you a few minutes to talk?"

Er…

"It's complicated."

The bartender crosses her arms. "What? Is there an ex in there or something?"

"…it's complicated."

"Well, maybe you should let her know where you stand to uncomplicate things. Ambiguity can hurt a hell of a lot more than rejection."

That sounds like totally reasonable advice. After careful deliberation, Traynor chooses to ignore it.

"We don't have time for that sort of thing. I don't—" How would Traynor even address that anyway? By the way, Shepard, I have a massive crush on you. Thanks for listening. I'm going to the bridge to throw myself out the airlock now.

That should go over well.

"We're in a professional relationship."

She looks at Traynor. Very hard. "Is that the best you can do?"

Traynor shrivels at her tone. She wonders if sinking beneath the counter and slinking away is considered bad conversational form.

The bartender eyes the Alliance insignia upon Traynor's collar. "Is it a higher-up, then? Well, in my opinion, you should go for it. The galaxy's not gonna hold out much longer at the rate the Reapers are wiping us out." She picks up a glass and wipes at it absent-mindedly. "Plus, you look like you need to get laid."

Traynor nearly drops her drink over her lap.

The asari bartender leans across the counter. She stares intently at the specialist. "That long ago, huh?"

"Th-that's not something I discuss in public!"

"Listen, you look like a nice kid. Go and get some while the galaxy is still out there." She tosses her head back and glances sidelong to the balcony near the café. "Otherwise, you might regret not doing anything at all."

Traynor ducks her head away to avoid continuing the conversation for now. She spots Shepard strolling towards them, looking slightly worried but radiant under the warm Presidium light. Her skin glows with a golden, almost serene light. It takes away the shadows under her eyes for a moment.

Traynor desperately pushes the bartender's advice out of her mind. She pretends she succeeds.

"Commander." She is about to get up when Shepard gently pushes her down.

"You're on leave. You don't need to stand for me all the time," she chides with a smile. Her eyes are worried. Traynor wishes she could sweep away the anxiety inside Shepard.

"Why don't you have a drink, Commander? The coffee here is—" Traynor turns to the bar and freezes. The server looks like she wants to crush the soldier to a puddle around her boots.

"Shepard," growls the bartender, tendrils of blue wisps dancing about her wrists. The glass in her hand cracks under her grip.

Shepard looks puzzled. "Do I know you?"

The bartender snorts. "I don't know. How many asari clean your ass off of their bar counter when you get completely shit-faced?"

Shepard pauses then glances over to Traynor. She shrugs.

That is not an appropriate response to a pissed-off asari matriarch.

"Should I jog your memory? Sorry, but we're out of ryncol today."

Shepard snaps her fingers. "Aethyta, the matriarch from Illium." She tilts her head and regards her with a frown. "You're a long ways off from where I last saw you."

"No shit. I got out of Illium before they came." Aethyta glares at the soldier, who gives her a hard look right back.

Traynor feels the air getting hotter between the two women. Mostly because she's sitting in the middle. She slowly edges out from under the hostile gazes.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" Shepard crosses her arms and tilts her chin up. Traynor glances nervously at the server whose arms and shoulders seemed to be rippling with dark energy power. She should run. She stands by Shepard instead.

She blames Shepard for the weakening of her self-preservation instinct.

"Traynor, Aethyta and I have something personal to discuss." Shepard doesn't take her eyes off the growling asari. "Liara's sitting nearby. You could go chat with her."

…Traynor would rather take her chances with the matriarch.

"Commander, I—"

"Go."

The single word is not a request. Traynor swallows her protest, takes a last look at Shepard's face and heads over to the balcony with slumped shoulders. She could hear voices behind her rising in heat. She wishes the Commander let her stay.

Liara looks up as Traynor stops in front of her table. She blinks then straightens up right away. "Specialist, I did not expect you to be passing by this part of the Presidium."

"It was a nice day for a walk. Do you mind if I join you, Liara?"

The broker looks skeptical but gestures to a seat across from her. "Go right ahead."

Traynor sits down. She and T'Soni make eye contact, and Liara looks away.

Both she and Liara have reached a point in their professional relationship where they could be more than cordial to each other. It makes the specialist uncomfortable, given the asari's propensity to gaze at her for long periods of time. It also reminds the specialist that the asari has the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. That makes her doubly uncomfortable.

Traynor realizes she can see the scene at the bar over Liara's shoulder. It does not reassure her.

Liara types away at her datapad. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The specialist glances back at the pair arguing at the counter. Sharp, wild hand gestures have been added to the conversation. The customers at the café are giving the pair a wide berth. It's just as well. Shepard has an astounding reach.

Traynor glances back at her companion. "I was wondering how your day was going."

Liara arches an eyebrow marking. "Relatively productive, Specialist." She glances away and smiles. "About what are you really inquiring?"

Traynor blinks. Liara looks at her, and the specialist stammers out whatever comes to mind. "I was wondering if you had ever met Shepard's mother."

Oh. Dammit. Well, she has been wondering that, but she thinks she misjudged her timing. Probably. Most likely.

Crap.

The smile fades away. "Once and only once, but by then, it did not matter." Liara goes quiet. "Why are you asking?"

"It's just that Shepard told me she hasn't contacted her mother in a while. I was hoping that perhaps you could..."

"Specialist, it is not wise to meddle in the affairs of Shepard if she does not want them to be disturbed." Liara's tone is stern but not unkind. "However, I cannot give you any information as I do not know the current location of Captain Shepard any more than you do." She glances down at her hands. "I have been looking."

Traynor lets out a long breath. Something clenches in her chest, and the specialist has to remind herself to breathe. "What was she like?"

"Strong. Graceful. Commanding. Grieving." Liara pauses. "She is exactly Shepard would be like a couple of decades from now." She looks up. "Is the commander aware that you are seeking information about her mother?"

Yes...obviously.

"I was just curious, since I have received news about my mother and..." Traynor's throat closes.

Liara glances at her. "Just your mother?"

Traynor nods slightly. There is a long pause.

"Oh.

"I am sorry."

Traynor doesn't answer.

Liara searches Traynor's face before she places her hand on the specialist's and squeezes.

And Traynor squeezes back.

Liara talks lightly of the sights of the Presidium, the colourful personalities of the vendors, and of various noteworthy asari restaurants. She struggles to remember the names of the latest movies that have come out before giving up and talking about the various types of fauna on the ward instead.

Traynor takes it all in without hearing a thing.

"So, what made you choose to pass by this part of the Presidium?" Liara asks, gently.

"It's pretty. I like pretty things." Traynor looks to her right. She wipes at her eyes. "Damn allergies."

"I imagine they can get quite active at this time of year." Liara politely glances away. Neither of them point out that the specialist's eyes have been moist long before she sat down.

"Was there anything else I can do for you, Specialist?"

Traynor ventures a smile. It almost collapses on itself. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." She looks over Liara's shoulder and sees the commander still talking with the matriarch at Apollo's Café. "I can see that Shepard is talking to the bartender at the bar."

Liara stiffens. She doesn't look to check the scene. "Which bartender?"

"The asari matriarch." Traynor glances back and forth between the server and Liara. They resemble each other quite a bit. She doesn't point it out though. The last thing she wants is for Liara to get the idea that the specialist thinks all asari look alike.

"I see." The tone is cool and clipped. Liara continues typing away at her datapads. The line of her mouth firms into a rigid line, and her eyebrow markings furrow together. She looks quite unhappy.

Traynor glances back between her colleague and the café. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all."

…right.

Traynor can't help but notice Liara eyeing the next ward down.

"Do you know that bartender?"

A muscle twitches in Liara's face. "Do you think I am familiar with all asari I see?"

Given the extensiveness of Liara's information network...kind of.

Liara seems to pick up on the specialist's skepticism. She shakes her head. "It is a private affair. Shepard should not get involved."

Traynor looks over to see the commander slams her hands so hard into the counter's surface, little craters form underneath her palms. Both the owner and the matriarch look less than pleased.

The specialist thinks it's too late to pretend that the commander isn't.

Maybe she should go over there and try to drag Shepard away from that…energetic conversation she's having. Traynor excuses herself from the table and heads towards the café. She considers sending several prayers to multiple gods would hedge her chances of evading harm nicely.

She's not sure what she can do if a fight does break out. Perhaps, tossing a chair at Aethyta or perform some other badly thought-out action will do.

She nears the pair when she overhears the matriarch's sharp words.

"So, what? My daughter's not good enough for you to f—"

Nope.

Traynor heads right back to Liara.

"They seem able to handle themselves." She sits back down. "So, how do you know that asari? Or not know her?" She adds hastily at Liara's glare.

Liara sits back and rubs the bridge of her nose. "She knew my mother."

"Very well?"

"I would say so, yes."

"Then, why don't you talk to her?"

"The galaxy is ending, Traynor. I hardly think this is the best time to pursue personal affairs."

Traynor gives Liara a look, and the asari almost blushes under it. The specialist is aware of the hypocrisy of her attitude.

"Liara."

"I have already made up my mind, Specialist. Simply saying my name will not cause me to change it."

"You might regret it if something happens to both of you tomorrow."

"Well, in that case, I do not think I will regret much by that point."

The biotic scientist can be more hardheaded than a krogan mercenary when she puts her mind to it. Traynor does not appreciate it at the moment.

She is about to argue her point further when Shepard's hand claps onto the asari's shoulder. Both she and Traynor nearly jump. The commander snuck up on them. Traynor didn't know she could do that. Not based on her combat vids, anyway.

"Sit down, T'Soni." She pushes Liara down firmly who eyes the next ward over in a slightly panicked manner. Shepard plops herself down in the last remaining seat. "So, you know that asari over there?"

Liara sighs. "The matriarch hired by the asari government to track my movements?"

"…yeah, that one. Anyway, she's your father."

Traynor's head twists so quickly towards T'Soni that she probably gave herself whiplash. "What?"

Liara rubs her eyes. She looks like she wants to groan. "I know."

"You know?" both Shepard and Traynor blurt.

"I am a very good information broker." Liara stands up and gathers her data pads. "Well, this discussion has been remarkably refreshing. I shall see you all back on the—"

"Liara, go talk to her." Shepard looks baffled and disappointed at T'Soni's confession.

"Shepard, this is hardly the time for family reunions." Liara says. Her eyes immediately go wide, and she glances at Traynor. "I mean, given the war effort and everything, I would imagine that family meetings should—"

"Liara, go." Shepard glances worriedly at Traynor, who has gone pale and presses her lips together tightly.

"Shepard, I—"

"Go."

This time, the command is from Traynor who tucks her chin to her throat. The word sounds low and loud at the same time. It sounds choked.

Liara takes a look at the specialist's face. She opens her mouth to protest before something comes over her expression, and she marches her way towards the nervous-looking bartender without another word.

Shepard doesn't speak, but she takes quick peeks at Traynor from the corner of her eyes. She looks like she wants to say something. She doesn't.

Traynor feels like she's about to break. She clears her throat instead. "Commander, are you sure this is wise? That matriarch looked like she wanted to kill you a while ago."

Shepard waves off the concern. "It's not the first time a matriarch wanted to kill me."

Why does that not reassure the specialist?

She glances at Traynor once more then pulls something out of her pocket. It's a strange sort of circular disc that fits neatly in her palm.

She taps at a button on the device, and the disc begins to spin. Aethyta's voice emanates from Shepard's hand in a clear tone.

"So, that Commander Shepard…nice piece of ass on her, huh?"

Traynor grabs Shepard by the forearm. "Are you eavesdropping?" She also turns a bright colour from Aethyta's iteration of something she's noticed more than once herself.

"What do you mean me?" The commander points to the specialist to indicate her complacency in the matter. "And besides, we're gathering intel that may help protect a fellow crew member. Seems like a fair reason to listen in to me."

That is not—Shepard does reconnaissance?

The commander frowns at Traynor's expression. "What kind of Spectre would I be if I couldn't gather information without using my fists?"

Traynor isn't sure. She had the impression that the commander does her information-gathering by showing up somewhere and shooting someone or something.

"I think Liara would appreciate it if we left her to talk with her father in privacy." Not to mention that Traynor does not want to overhear anything that should remain private. Especially more about Shepard's...assets. Or about something else that should remain between parent and child.

Her eyes start to burn again.

"Spoilsport." Shepard turns off the device. The hum dies down. She folds her fingers together and watches the specialist expectantly. "All right, let's talk about you then."

Traynor goes quiet for a while before she reaches over to pluck the smooth, metal disc out of the Spectre's hand.

"That's an intricately made listening device, Commander," Traynor says, examining it. She doesn't see it .

"A good friend made it for me. She's a genius with anything mechanical." Shepard looks away. "I don't know where she is now."

"Maybe you'll run into her again?"

"I hope so." Shepard is quiet for a moment then changes the subject. The expression in her eyes lets Traynor that the other subject had not been forgotten. "I saw you talking to Liara's father earlier. What were you talking about? Was it me?"

Traynor's heartbeat trips over itself. "Not everything is about you, Commander."

Oh, god.

She knows.

"Then, was it about whatever you're unwilling to talk to me?" Shepard gives her a hard look, and Traynor drops her eyes.

"Specialist, look at me. You're not obligated to divulge anything personal to me, but as a friend—and I hope I'm your friend—I'm asking you to let me know. Please."

Traynor can't look at the commander. She doesn't want to hear Shepard use that tone of voice.

"Was there terrible news about Earth or Palaven? Has a friend of yours been killed?

"Is it something to do with your home? Your family?"

Shepard does not know when to quit. The same trait that has led her to countless war victories makes Traynor want to leave.

"I..." Shepard gazes at her hands. "My family died before the war started. Most of them, anyway."

Traynor looks up and catches Shepard looking away, hair mussed, eyes faraway. She gazes out over the Presidium like she's searching for something dear in the wards below. She doesn't seem able to find it.

"My grandparents passed away a couple of years ago. Around the time Sovereign attacked the Citadel. Shock, I suppose."

That's not true to a certain point. Traynor did enough research to know that they lived until after Shepard saved the Citadel from the lone Reaper...but not long after the Normandy was attacked over Alchera.

"My father died before I was old enough to know him. A casualty of the First Contact War." Shepard chuckles mirthlessly. "He wasn't even in the field. He had been a medical officer." She pauses. "The turians can be brutal when they need to be.

"As for my mother and I...despite our differences, we were civil enough to each other to update one another on our lives every once in a while. Now, I don't know where she is." She glances down at her hands. "I fear that I may be the last Shepard."

Traynor reaches out for the commander's hand before she realizes it, and Shepard takes it before she can retract it. Neither of them comments about how warm the other is.

"I understand, Commander."

Traynor tries to say more, but there is a large blockage in her throat from behind which nothing can escape. Not her grief, her sorrow, her rage, her disbelief. She is rendered mute and enraged. She grieves for the emotions she cannot express.

But Shepard understands anyway.

She squeezes the specialist's hand, and they stare out over endless wards below them. Traynor doesn't know how much time has pass but Shepard stands up and leans over the specialist, her breath warming Traynor's face. "When you're ready, I'll be here to talk."

Her eyes flicker over Traynor's face. "I know what you're going through." She straightens up. "But I also know that you will deal with them your own way too. You know where I am if you want to find me." She picks up T'Soni's datapads. "I'll hand these to Liara on my way out." She turns to leave.

Traynor catches her by the wrist. "Thank you." Her words are so soft that for a moment, Traynor is sure that Shepard didn't hear them.

The commander gives her specialist a nod. She gazes at Traynor for a long time before departing. Her boots click quietly against the Presidium's floor. The sounds die away amidst the endless murmur of the crowd.

Traynor gazes out into the wards below, into the vivid blue lake and immaculately sculpted wards. They are so well maintained and so carefully constructed. It becomes so easy to pretend that everything will always remain the same.

The warm Presidium light makes her sleepy and causes her to doze off. She dreams of a kind, thin man of middle age. He's shy but he always smiles. He's always been proud of her.

He is disappointed when she doesn't share his love of geological minerals, but supports her when she moves into technology. He is the one who recommends her to get a scholarship to Oxford to pursue her dreams. He waits at the port when she leaves him and her mother behind for Earth. He greets her when she comes back home. He is always there.

Traynor becomes busy and cannot talk with him as much as they used. He understands but with every month he does not see her, he starts to shrink. As Traynor grows bigger, he grows frailer and quieter until he is almost a shell of himself. She knows he is waiting for her to reach out to him again. She does not have time to.

She dreams of the slender man getting smaller as the ship he's on dives deep into the dark velvet of space. This surveying expedition is the last one of his career and the destination's only a system away. A quick trip and back.

A red light flashes in the distance before flaring out into tiny pricks across space until they gleam like bloody diamonds in the cloth of night. They hum loudly and strangely. The whole galaxy is blinded.

The ship becomes a pinpoint as it sails towards them then disappears.

She dreams it never comes back.


	8. Bonding

**Author's Notes:** I sprained my ankle a while ago, and I can't leave my house for at least a week and a half. Consequently, I have time to update faster now.

At least something worked out from that.

Thank you for everyone following the story. Reviews from you guys make my day.

* * *

The fighting on Tuchanka had been brutal.

Traynor could not believe that a thresher maw that big could be real if she had not seen it on video herself. She can also see a dot of a figure darting beneath the two colossi as they wrestle for dominance.

Shepard is not good at the whole being safe thing.

The krogans' roars nearly deafened any Normandy crew member listening in. The victory bolstered morale not only for the krogans but also for the turians and humans allied with them.

But the commander is taking something hard if her expression upon her return is any indication.

In the light of the CIC, Shepard looks thin and faint as if the edges of her outline have turned fuzzy and indistinct. It's almost as if she is slowly becoming intangible.

Traynor falls in line with her when she passes by. Shepard looks at her and smiles but she still looks so faint.

They go into the elevator, and a silence falls on them. Traynor steals glances from the corner of her eye. Shepard looks so tired.

"Commander, that victory on Tuchanka was an amazing accomplishment."

Shepard's eyes are closed. She doesn't seem to hear her.

"I didn't think there could be thresher maws that big anywhere. Now if only we could draw all the Reapers to Tuchanka..."

Shepard nods. Her eyes are still closed. "Mordin and Eve aren't coming back."

Traynor opens her mouth then closes it. She touches Shepard's arm. She doesn't have any words that seem fitting for the situation.

Shepard puts her hand over Traynor's. "They were instrumental to helping us win the fight on Tuchanka. I'll make sure that there'll be a monument to them when the war's over." Her eyes have a strange glassy sheen to them.

Traynor says, "I'll help."

Shepard looks at her and smiles. Traynor reaches out to touch the commander's face. Shepard's eyes close. She opens them again after a few moments, her expression distant and almost illusive.

"I don't like losing friends."

"No one does." Traynor strokes the side of the commander's cheek. She trembles slightly. Her actions are bordering on insubordination, but the commander doesn't seem to care. "We'll be heading to the Citadel right away as per your orders. You could reunite with your other friends there, like Major Alenko."

The elevator stops at the captain's quarters and the doors open.

"It'll be good to see Kaidan again." Shepard shakes her head as she steps out towards her cabin. "Take a break, Specialist. You've earned it." Her tone tells Traynor not to follow.

Traynor watches Shepard's door close behind her. She stays there for few moments until the doors close, and she's inside the elevator alone.

The steel car goes down, and the doors open out to the mess hall. Traynor steps out into a noisy party where most of the crew are celebrating the victory on Tuchanka. Some of the ground team emerges from the med bay, looking patched up for the most part.

"Hey, there. How's it going?" Vega's cheerful face pops up out of the crowd. He has bandages running down a cheek. "Some party, huh?"

Traynor raises an eyebrow at the ruckus before them of people shouting in good humour, singing, and cheering. "When did this happen?"

"Not sure, but I think we should hurry up if we want to join the party." He waggles his eyebrows. "I've got a bottle of tequila I've been saving up if you feeling thirsty."

Some instinct tells Traynor that this would probably lead to disastrously bad results. She politely declines the offer.

"Suit yourself." He shrugs before pulling her over to a quiet corner of the hall. "So, how is Shepard?"

"Tired. Hurt. Stubborn."

"Sounds like the commander. Pig-headed like an old krogan." Vega shakes his head. "Shepard would rather get injured than admit that she wants help." His tone is casual. He glances at her, sidelong. "She needs someone to keep an eye on her."

Traynor can't help but feel a stab of frustration. At what, she's not sure. "Which is the purpose of the ground team."

Her head hurts. She goes through the crowd to pour herself a drink. She ignores the poor logic of the situation.

"Hey, I was all over Shepard's back," Vega protests. He stumbles into Traynor who stops and shoots him a look. "Figuratively, I mean."

Traynor continues on to the makeshift bar counter and helps herself to the liquor.

"Whoa, hold on there." He plucks the glass from her fingers. "That's gonna pack a pretty mean punch in the morning if you drink it like that." He pours half of the alcohol into another glass and mixes it with soda. He keeps his eyes on her the whole time he does that. "There a reason why you seem so eager to get down to the hard stuff?"

Traynor lets out a long breath and runs her hand through her hair. "It's nothing, James."

"And it wouldn't have something to do with the commander?"

"No."

"Despite everyone seeing you take off with her?"

What?_ Everyone_ saw...?

"Just kidding." He jabs her in the ribs with his elbow. "Seriously though, you look like something's eating you from the inside out."

Traynor chews on her lip. "Shepard seems more exhausted these days, doesn't she?"

"Given how she tears through the Reapers like a pack of vorchas chasing lunch, I wouldn't be too surprised." Vega takes a sip of his drink and peers over the crowd. "But like I said, Shepard doesn't understand she has limits like the rest of us. Well, not like the rest of us, but limits...somewhere."

Despite herself, the corners of Traynor's lips twitch upwards. "Are they like yours?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" He winks at her.

Traynor freezes. She's not sure if he's joking. She opts for ignoring the implications until they go away. That always works out.

Traynor reminds herself to stop telling lies. At least, to herself.

"How are you doing, James?"

"Never been better." He strokes the patched up side of his face. "Never been prettier either."

Traynor laughs. "You may need a bit more work before people would consider you to be 'pretty'."

Vega leans in. "But am I pretty enough for you? Or is Shepard more your type?"

Traynor pushes him away. "You've started drinking already, haven't you, Lieutenant?" She hopes she can pretend the flush to her face is from the alcohol.

"Well, Dr. Chakwas might have broken out some Ice Brandy over the news from Tuchanka." He grins and leans against the counter. When he speaks, his tone is very casual. "I heard that the commander is awfully worried about her mother."

"She is." Traynor rubs her face. "I wish I could do something about it."

"Have you asked Doc about it?"

"I have, but she says she doesn't know Captain Shepard is."

Vega rubs his chin. "She did? That's...huh."

"What is it?"

"No, no, nothing at all. If she hasn't said anything to you, then it's not my place to say." He looks around before leaning in to whisper. "But it's just that in my experience, sometimes, Doc knows more than she lets on."

Traynor doesn't say anything. She has suspected as much before.

Liara wouldn't lie to her face, would she? And if she did, she did it well. The slender broker does not look like the deceiving type, but maybe the specialist has underestimated her abilities.

But why would Liara hide anything about the commander's mother?

Vega pours them both another drink. "If you're looking to talk to her, a few compliments her way might help loosen up the tongue." He shakes the liquor bottle in his hand. "This also works in a pinch if you haven't got suave looks like me."

He shoves it into her hands while he takes a look around. "She might still be in the med bay. Hold on, I'll go check." He slips into the crowd of crew members behind him.

Traynor sighs and sags into a chair near her, placing the bottle on the counter. She bolts right back up when she hears a familiar drawl near her ear.

"Enjoying the party, Specialist?"

Vakarian appears from behind her holding a martini glass filled with greenish liquid. Traynor would almost think he looks funny with it if it weren't for the fact that she now has to listen to him and his evil, evil plans.

She wonders if she could feign passing out from inebriation to avoid this conversation.

"So, how are you finding the Normandy?"

"It's an intricately well-run ship and has some of the most advanced nautical technology in the galaxy." The answer slips past her lips automatically. Vakarian cocks his head to the side as if listening to something else.

"Yes, but how are you adjusting to it?"

Traynor works all odd hours of the cycle to finish work whenever she can. It's like being back in university.

"Fine. I would hope that I'm integrating well into the crew."

Garrus chuckles. "Well, now, I'd have to agree with that. You've done an admirable job of getting close to some of the crew members. Especially the commanding ones, shall we say?"

Traynor is surprised she's not shaking. Must be the alcohol. Or paralyzing terror.

Hmm...definitely the terror.

"Of course. It would not serve my work well if I could not get along with my superior officers."

"Really? I was talking about Liara."

His tone changes suddenly. It becomes sharp.

"I thought you had eyes only for the commander, Specialist."

Traynor's breathing halts. She clutches at her drink like it's the only thing that makes sense. To an extent, it is.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispers. It hardly sounds convincing to her own ears.

"Hmm...should I ask Liara then?" His eyes narrow, and he pulls the specialist closer to the Main Battery for more privacy. Traynor follows helplessly, like a twig caught in a coursing river.

"Now, let's talk about what's going on between you, Shepard, and Liara." His eyes glint coldly.

"Nothing!" Traynor blurts. "Nothing's going on! We're all just friends." To her chagrin, that much is true.

"After hanging around humans for so long, you have to give me credit for being able to smell bullshit." His nostrils flare as if to prove a point. "Now, let's start slowly, beginning first with why Liara seems to think you might be interested in her."

Traynor peeks around Vakarian to look for an escape route. He seems to be blocking all of them. The mess hall is filled with noisy clatter behind them. Joker is leaning against the bar counter, trying to look suave for EDI.

Traynor has never wanted to push him over so hard before.

"Well?"

"There was a misunderstanding, caused by an unforeseen factor." Two, in fact.

Traynor eyes the pair by the counter almost resentfully.

"And you haven't done anything to resolve this 'misunderstanding?'" Garrus crosses his arms.

"There hasn't been an appropriate time."

"Why not start right now?"

Traynor glances up at him. There are many reasons why immediately would not be a good time to start. She wonders why he is so nosy all of a sudden.

"Why are you involved, Garrus? I would think that Shepard and Liara are competent enough to manage their own affairs." Especially considering the power each one wields individually, if not together.

"Because, sometimes, the both of them are too busy to realize what's going on in their lives." Garrus leans in close. "And I care whenever it feels like my two closest friends are being jerked around."

Is that what this is about? How silly, Vakarian should have mentioned so from the start—

Traynor looks at her drink. There was suddenly a lot less than she remembered. It would explain her inability to be afraid of one of the best snipers she had ever encountered in her lifetime. She hopes this conversation wouldn't inadvertently make it shorter.

"Garrus, I am not jerking them around, as you put it. I respect Commander Shepard and Dr. T'Soni greatly, and would do anything to assist both of them." Traynor steps forward and starts to stagger. She forgot she was a lightweight. Whoops.

This is probably a terrible situation.

Vakarian is stony-faced. "Are you interested in both Liara and Shepard?"

Traynor turns a bright red. "Yes, they're both such admirable women."

"That isn't what I asked."

She knows.

Dammit!

"Because if you aren't, it would be wise to clear up all 'misunderstandings' before they go too far, don't you think?" He takes her gently by the arm and steers her towards the hall again. Traynor nods rapidly. Mostly to get him to let her go.

They bump into James and Liara a few steps in. The asari blinks at the hold Garrus has on Traynor's arm. The specialist wonders if trying to hide behind the towering turian would be considered too undignified.

"Liara, just the person we were looking for," Garrus drawls. He pushes the specialist in front of him. "Traynor has something she would like to talk to you about."

Liara glances at his face then at Traynor's. "I would love to. However, that may have to wait for another time, as there is much work for me to do." She keeps her gaze on Traynor's face. The specialist wonders if it's showing the panic she feels.

"C'mon, Liara. It's a party. Time to kick back and relax, and really get to know one another." He pushes Traynor forward until she's almost nose to nose with T'Soni. Liara makes eye contact then glances away. Traynor has trouble remembering to breathe.

James takes a look at her and Garrus. He slaps his meaty palm on the turian's shoulder, and Vakarian nearly stumbles backward.

"Loosen up, Scars. The girls are gonna do what they're gonna do. Me and you, on the other hand, well, we got some stories to compare. Someone told me you had a little thing going on at Omega...?"

"Well, I did do all right there." Garrus' mandibles twitch. "Who told you that, anyway?"

"I had informed Lieutenant Vega." EDI appears out of nowhere at Vakarian's shoulder. Traynor peers over her shoulder and sees Joker still at the counter with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Perhaps, you would like to correct the information I gave the Lieutenant about your adventures on Omega." She pushes him while Vega tugs him along, away from Traynor and Liara. "I also would like to participate in sharing anecdotes. Jeff has added many 'knock-knock jokes' to my database, as humans like to call them. They seem highly irregular."

Vakarian has a confused expression on his face as he's carried away from the pair. "Wait, I wasn't finished—"

"Have a good evening, Specialist Traynor," EDI bids her. Vega winks again. Traynor wants to slap her forehead from the obviousness of it.

They disappear around a corner without another word. Traynor thinks it's a good idea to beat feet and fast.

"Would you like to go someplace quieter, Liara?"

"I would." The asari keeps her steady gaze on the specialist. Traynor feels sweat starting to slide down the back of her neck.

She steps towards the least cluttered spot around. "Are you still planning to work despite the noisy celebration going on?" She tries to inject a teasing note into her voice.

Joker's trying to make eye contact with her from the bar. He gives her two thumbs up and mouths something that's probably obscene. Traynor ignores him.

"Given my extensive network, I have to keep constant contact with my sources to maintain a flow of reliable information." Liara pauses when they step into a secluded alcove of the ship. She glances at the surroundings then at the specialist, her expression shifting from disbelief to worry then embarrassment.

Traynor wonders what's going on when T'Soni speaks up.

"Did you actually have something to discuss with me, Traynor?"

Traynor opens her mouth to say no. "I do have lots of questions, in fact."

...when did her mouth get autonomy from her brain?

...right. Alcohol. She's going to kick herself tomorrow.

"And how long will this discussion be that you had in mind?"

The amount of time it takes the specialist to make a break for the elevator.

"N-not long. Why?"

"If it is a personal matter you wish to speak about, we could always go inside my quarters." Liara glances at the doors beside them, and a flush courses across her cheeks.

Traynor looks at the doors then at Liara's face when the implication hits her.

Oh.

Crap.

CRAP.

CRAP!

"No! No, I mean, I just wanted a quick chat with you, but it can wait for another time. I'll just—" She turns and spots Vakarian struggling through the crowd in the hall with EDI and Vega not far behind. "Actually, now would be an opportune moment for discussion."

Liara looks surprised but says nothing as the specialist ushers them both inside rather hastily.

The lights are bright overhead. The room's silent save for the hum of the computers. A flash of light arches towards them, and it's not until it's close that Traynor recognizes the bright sphere as an info drone. It darts all around her, scanning.

"Presence unrecognized. Searching data banks. Clearance not found. Shall I eliminate this abnormality at once for you, Dr. T'Soni?"

"No, Glyph," she sighs. "Please, just give us some space to talk."

"Of course." It backs away, keeping its eye on the specialist as if still considering the possibility of elimination.

Traynor thinks the drone is almost cute, save for the part where it tried to dispose of her.

"So, what did you wish to talk about, Specialist?"

Traynor's not sure where to begin. She talks a few steps along the room, amazed by the size and sheer volume of electronics stuffed inside. There's a whole wall of monitors that automatically shift towards the specialist as if they had eyes of their own...

"You said you had questions?" Liara probes.

"I do. But they do require a moment to properly phrase them and—"

Holy crap, Liara has a huge bed. Traynor is tempted to go over and sit when she notices Liara watching her eye it. The specialist turns away quickly.

"I mean, there are just so many that I'm not sure where to start." She looks up into the monitors. There's information about mass relay entries, about various planets and important galactic figures. There's images of people huddling in colonies and of people on council seats trying to prepare desperately for the Reapers' invasion. There are images of various people—scientists, doctors, engineers. They all appear to be working urgently in a dark room somewhere. Admiral Hackett is also there. Traynor's not sure why.

She turns to Dr. T'Soni. "Liara, what do you do?"

"I am an information broker."

"But this..." She waves a hand towards the screens. "This is beyond any normal brokering."

Liara's face has gone still, but the shadows on it seemed to have darkened. "What are you asking about, specifically, Specialist?"

There's something soft and dangerous in Liara's tone that reminds Traynor of a sleeping viper. It makes Traynor hesitates. She decides that it's better if she doesn't know.

"Just how you...broker stuff," she finishes, lamely. She hurries on before Liara can answer. "You told me you had tried looking for Captain Shepard, and that you've only met her once."

"That was true." Liara steps around her to go to her keyboard. Her fingers dart quickly across it. "And as I have said before, she is exactly like the Commander."

"But was there any other point of contact? Did you message her at all after you two had met?"

Liara pauses. She glances at the specialist. "I had."

Traynor takes a breath. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"You did not ask."

All sorts of thoughts go through her mind at the reply, but she focuses on the questions. "What did you two talk about?"

Liara goes quiet. Her fingers have completely stilled on her keyboard. "Is it worth knowing?"

Her voice no longer has that warning tone. Instead, it has gone almost inaudible, gentle. It has a pleading tone, as if begging the specialist not to continue.

Traynor doesn't want to feel like a monster. But she needs to know. "What was it?"

Liara closes her eyes. "Shepard."

"What about Shepard?"

"Her childhood, her life, her victories, her failures, her journeys, her...end." Liara shakes her head. "It was always about Shepard."

Something thin and clear appears from under Liara's eyelids. Traynor feels like she tore up her own insides.

She places a hand on T'Soni's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Liara smiles. It's thin and painful to see. "It takes more than that to upset me now, Specialist." She turns away. "But thank you for the concern."

The hum of the computers, once gentle, now seem harsh in the sudden silence that follows. Traynor's not sure what to say. She places her other hand on T'Soni 's shoulders and gives a tentative hug from behind.

T'Soni gasps softly, and the specialist bolts backwards as if her awkward semi-hug might have actually hurt the battle hardened biotic.

"I'm sorry! I'm stepping over my boundaries and it's so kind of you to invite me here, and I repaid it by—" Molesting you in your chambers.

Oh, god. Traynor needs to go to the brig.

"It is fine. I just have not been—" Liara looks away. "Did you have anything else to ask me?"

Traynor hesitates. Would it be pushing her luck to find out more about Captain Shepard?

"Can I ask you anything, Liara?"

"That depends if you want the answers." T'Soni gives her a hard, unwavering stare.

Good enough for the specialist. She's just going to see herself out now...

"Traynor, one more thing."

Liara pulls a datapad off of her desk and punches something into it. She places in Traynor's hands. "This may answer some more questions you have regarding Shepard's mother. Feel free to visit me if you have any more." She locks eyes with Traynor for a few long seconds. "Have a good night, Samantha."

She lets go, and Traynor stumbles backwards. She barely makes it out the room with her dignity intact.

She looks back at the lone blue figure amid the sea of monitors and hardware, beeping and humming like the heartbeat of the room.

The doors close, and despite herself, Traynor finds herself wanting to go back in.


	9. Memories

**Author's Note: **Still alive, despite life's attempts otherwise. Sorry, I've been through a whirlwind of life events including scholarship applications, a break-up, a trip to another country, and work conflicts, BUT I've finally managed to finish another chapter of _Seduction Theory_. Have to confess that I borrowed quite liberally a certain format from Midnight Lion's _PPS-Stay Frosty_, which you'll see later. Just so you know. Not a genius. Just good at borrowing ideas from people smarter than me. As a side note, 100 kilograms = 220.5 pounds for people not living by the metric system.

Seriously, where did three months go?

* * *

Traynor paces in front of Liara's cabin. It's quiet, after work hours, and most of the personnel aboard the Normandy are still reeling from the Cerberus' brazen attempt to take over the Citadel.

The specialist has not had much time to talk to her broker friend about the datapad given to her. She's not quite sure why she's hesitating so much.

The datapad contains mostly biographical data about Captain Shepard that the specialist could have easily found out. A note at the bottom reveals that it is compiled by Liara herself. Traynor is puzzled about why she would be handed such basic information.

Birthdates, family trees, and military accolades whiz by her eyes until she hits the bottom of the screen. She goes to the top and repeats the process several times. The results are the same every time.

Is a desire to eject the datapad out the airlock a natural response?

She's not sure what Liara is trying to tell her with such blunt, uninteresting data. Is there a secret code in there, or did the asari think that Traynor really could not find out this information herself? After some thought, she vowed to march over to Liara's room and make the young broker tell her what the datapad means. So far, it's half successful.

EDI stands some distance off, watching her with curiosity. "Specialist, I detect high levels of anxiety in your system. Would you like me to share one of Jeff's anecdote to calm you down? There is one that he particularly enjoys involving an Earth creature called a rooster—"

Traynor cuts in. "I don't think it would help, but thank you."

"I do not understand why you will simply not walk through Liara's doors. She is free to talk to you if you are concerned about whether she is occupied."

That's not the point.

"What is the reason for your pacing outside in an agitated state? Is it some sort of human courting ritual?"

EDI pauses. "In that case, please proceed."

"I am not 'courting' anyone," Traynor hisses. "I...just need to gather my thoughts. That's all."

Right.

Wait.

"What do you mean courting ritual?" She wheels around to face EDI.

EDI glances to the side. "Commander Shepard and Major Alenko are currently occupying the lounge area. Perhaps, you would like to talk with them to clear your mind."

No, she would like to know what EDI meant by her earlier comment.

"They appear to be very physically comfortable in there."

Traynor stops. She's not sure if EDI is serious or trying to distract her. After some deliberation, she decides that if it was a diversionary remark, it worked.

"Should I intervene?" She takes a step towards the lounge before she can stop herself. She really should give the two some privacy to catch up, but the idea of them being…physical with each other makes something boil over inside of her. "I'll just drop by and check on them."

Traynor tells herself the best lies.

EDI continues as if she hasn't heard the specialist. "Major Alenko's heart rate is higher than it needs to be, given the small amount of alcohol he has consumed, much like yours when you interact with the commander. Should we be concerned over this?"

Oh dear God, yes.

"We should go right now." Traynor walks so briskly that EDI is left behind.

"Specialist, there is no need for haste. Current statistics indicate a 77.3% chance that the commander will remain in the lounge—"

EDI is cut off by the sound of something heavy falling to the floor. A hiss of air escapes from around the corner, and a heavy thud can be heard from near the lounge. It's followed by swearing, scrabbling, and another thud indicating that something has fallen again.

"—although she has always been fond of ignoring statistical probability."

Traynor rushes around the corner to see Shepard sitting against the wall. Her face is flushed, her hair is raked across her face, and there's a scowl that brings an attractive edge to her features. The specialist has trouble turning her eyes away from the sight. It doesn't help that Shepard's uniform is partially opened at the top.

"Commander? Is there a new regulation about the Normandy not keeping any chairs now?" The words are out before Traynor can stop herself. She wishes she wasn't such a smartass when stressed. It certainly doesn't help her around her dashing superior officers. Well, just the one, really.

Traynor walks up to Shepard. She tries very hard to not to look at the opened collar. "Do you need some assistance getting up?" She cocks her head. "Why are you on the ground in the first place?"

"Floors." The commander stares sullenly at the ground around her. "Can't trust the bastards."

Good to know that Shepard is full of sage advice as usual.

Traynor stoops to haul the Spectre to her feet. Shepard bats her hand away and mutters something unintelligible. She attempts to get up on her own. Attempt is a fairly accurate word in this circumstance.

"Goddammit," Shepard swears into the ground. Traynor moves to pick her up, but is pushed away again.

"Perhaps, I can lend some assistance, Commander." EDI steps forward but is turned away by Shepard as well.

"No. Can you tell Vega to come?"

Traynor frowns. "I think he's probably sleeping." Like most relatively normal people on the Normandy.

"Tell him to get his ass up here. Spectre authority," Shepard mumbles into the ground. "No one respects the Spectres."

Shepard is a lot more impressive when she's not face-down on the floor.

"Perhaps, there is some assistance to be found locally," suggests EDI.

"Major Alenko is in the lounge, right? I'll go get help." Traynor walks over to the doors. She nearly falls on her face halfway there.

"Shepard," Traynor twists her neck to look at the sprawled soldier, "it's quite difficult to get help if you don't release me."

Shepard shakes her head and pulls her hand away from the specialist's ankle. "Not Kaidan. We..." Shepard looks away.

"EDI, go check on him. See if he's all right." She manages to push herself off the ground while Traynor exchanges a look with EDI. When the AI lingers, Shepard lets out a guttural growl.

EDI doesn't need further consideration. She disappears into the lounge without another word.

Traynor glances at her inebriated commander, whose head seems to have trouble staying upright. She attempts to pull her to her feet before she remembers that the commander now weighs over a hundred kilograms thanks to her modifications.

She takes a seat beside the commander instead. "Why don't I join you, and we can chat until you sober up?"

Shepard snorts and leans into the specialist. Traynor is glad there's a wall beside her, otherwise she'd keel over from the commander's weight. Shepard is definitely not a lightweight.

"How was your chat with Major Alenko?" Traynor nearly gags on her words. Shepard reeks of alcohol. Dear God, how much did she drink?

Shepard grunts. Her eyes are unfocused.

"I assume glazed eyes meant that it went spectacularly well."

Shepard frowns. "Kaidan is such a light-weight. Only two bottles of whiskey." She leans back. "Lush."

Traynor laughs nervously and tries not to think about the three martinis that nearly knocked her out at the celebration after Tuchanka's victory.

Shepard leans close to Traynor's face. "You're warm."

"Yes. That's generally a by-product of being alive."

Traynor has trouble controlling her mouth around Shepard since it suddenly becomes hard to think. She probably has that effect on a lot of people. Particularly with her penchant for kicking her way into a room with her guns blazing.

Shepard looks at her hands. "What counts as being alive?"

"...respiratory function?"

The commander turns her head away. "Does it have to be continuous?"

Traynor opens her mouth before she closes it again. "No, not at all."

"What about EDI? Is she not alive?"

"Of course, EDI is—"

Traynor stops herself. That's a whole area of complex arguments regarding many different definitions of the term in regards to virtual and artificial intelligence. She's just a little grunt comm specialist, not a professor of ethics at Oxford.

"Yes, she's alive." Traynor finishes.

Shepard peeks at her sidelong. "She doesn't fulfill your criteria of respiratory function."

That was a joke! A joke, right? Ha ha. Ha ha ha, funny.

Traynor should be so lucky as to be so funny.

"Well, that might have been a little narrow-minded part. What I meant was that to be alive, you should be able to experience things and learn from those experiences."

"What about vorcha?"

…well, disregarding the vorcha.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't." Shepard looks away. "Kaidan and I were talking about the old Normandy. About the crew and our missions." She wraps her arms around her knees. She looks distraught. "I lost so many good men and women when the Collectors attacked."

Traynor reaches out and touches Shepard's arm. "That wasn't your fault." Also, Shepard died herself. In Traynor's opinion, even if she was somehow at fault, that result more than makes up for it. "And you came back to make sure the Collectors wouldn't get anyone else."

Shepard turns her head away. "Not all of me."

"Shepard..."

The commander shrugs off Traynor's hand and moves away. "I wish people would stop treating me like I was her."

"Like who?"

"Like the first Shepard. The real one."

Traynor stares. "But you are her."

Shepard smiles. She doesn't say anything.

Traynor throws herself at the commander and pulls her into a tight hug. Shepard feels strangely cold in her arms. "You're talking nonsense. You're the only Commander Shepard."

Shepard's voice is so quiet that Traynor can barely hear her. "Then why don't I remember my own life?"

"Of course you do! You told me that you've only forgotten silly things like how to dance and—" Traynor stops at Shepard's expression. "Those were the only thing you've forgotten, right?"

Shepard doesn't reply. She stares ahead. If it weren't for the corridor's wall, Traynor would have sworn it was directly at a certain corner of the mess hall.

"How is Liara, anyway?" Shepard asks. Her tone is casual.

"She's fine, Commander." Traynor's tone is a tad impatient and worried. "I'm more concerned about y—"

"I heard a rumour..." Shepard rolls her head from side to side. She glances at Traynor before shaking her head. "Never mind."

Traynor's insides feel like ice. "A rumour?"

Shepard looks at her sidelong. "How did you enjoy the party after Tuchanka?"

"It was good." Traynor's breathing gets tighter. "What does that have to do with—"

"Liara likes you, you know." Shepard looks at her. "She talks to you."

Traynor's brows furrow together. "She was asking you some questions this morning."

"She talks to you." Shepard repeats the phrase like a small child. She sounds pleading and frightened.

"Liara talks to everybody. It's part of her job as an information broker. I'm sure she'll reply to you too if you talk with her."

Shepard covers her eyes with her hands. "We talk, but she doesn't hear me."

Shepard's not making any sense. Traynor pulls the commander's hands away. "You need some rest." Her voice is calm and gentle. The hairs standing up on her skin belies the serenity she projects. "Come on. Your cabin isn't far away."

She tugs on the commander's arms and nearly tumbles backwards when Shepard suddenly rockets up. She grabs Traynor by the arm.

"Stay with me?"

"Of course, Commander." The specialist works hurriedly to pry off Shepard's grip. It's almost crushing.

Shepard smiles, but it's lopsided and oddly disquieting to look at. "You don't mean that."

Traynor doesn't have time to respond before there's a hiss of doors opening and EDI strolls out. "Allow me to assist you to your cabin, Commander Shepard."

"How is Kaidan?"

"He is alive and has a blood alcohol level of 0.057. Yours is above 0.50. You should be experiencing a large possibility of death right now." EDI takes one of Shepard's arms while the commander laughs and pushes Traynor away. "Shall I escort you?"

"Of course." Shepard turns to wave at Traynor, the worrying smile still on her face. "Have a good night, Specialist. Check on Alenko in the lounge for me, would you?"

She disappears into the elevator before the specialist can figure out what just happened. EDI glances back. Her expression almost seems apologetic.

Traynor watches them go before her feet turn around and lead into the lounge. She's still processing what occurred with the commander. Why is the specialist trembling all of a sudden?

She enters the room and blinks at the empty bottles lining the bar counter and table. Major Alenko raises a glass in greeting, his cheeks flushed.

"Major Alenko." She salutes. "How are you faring?"

"Shepard told you to check up on me?" He smiles. "You don't need to. I drank far less than she did."

That's good. Traynor's not sure what the standard protocol is for dealing with two drunken Spectres.

"How are you finding the Normandy?"

"It's amazing." He stands up and helps her to a seat beside him. "I think I just met with the uh...ship."

"EDI can have that effect on people at first. You get used to it."

His dark brows furrow. "She asked me about human courting rituals all of a sudden. I wasn't sure why."

Oh, that EDI.

"Probably just curiosity," Traynor replies quickly. She changes the topic. "Seems like your chat went well." She eyes the bottles lining up on the bar counter and littering the table.

"As well as some lager and whiskey can make it." He shakes his head. "I didn't get your name, sorry."

"Comm Specialist Samantha Traynor." She doesn't meet his eyes. "We've met already."

He peers at her and frowns. "The Normandy on Earth."

Yes. One week on the job, and Traynor's already flying off with some of the craziest soldiers she's ever met. She would have packed a toothbrush if she had known in advance.

"But I've seen you somewhere before that."

Traynor shifts and tugs at some invisible crease on her pants.

He shakes his head. "Where?"

Traynor opens her mouth to answer, and the word takes forever to trip itself out.

"Horizon."

That one word siphons all the air out of the room by its utterance. Alenko places his glass down and turns to look at her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't do enough."

Alenko's face twists, and Traynor can see genuine regret in its deep lines.

"You did what you could."

"And Shepard did the rest." There's something bitter in his tone. Traynor's not sure what to say. They sit there in silence for a while.

"How are you getting along with the crew?" she ventures when the quiet grows too strong.

"It has been hard getting to know everyone. Y'know, what with people avoiding me after the coup on the Citadel." He peers into his glass before glancing at her. "I made an ass of myself, didn't I?"

No, no, pointing a gun at your friend and former superior officer is perfectly accept—

Well, if looked at in context—

"You did what you thought was right," Traynor reassures him.

"Shepard says the same thing," he turns away.

"Shepard trusted you to make the decision."

"She didn't have a choice," he scoffs.

Sure, she did. She could have shot him.

That line of reasoning probably won't cheer the major up.

"Anyway, let's put that glass down." She places a hand on Alenko's arm and lowers it. "You'll feel better in the morning without it."

Alenko smiles ruefully but agrees. He sits back and gazes out the lounge window. Traynor takes this opportunity to study the major in more detail.

Major Alenko is a very handsome man.

The neatly groomed dark hair and intense eyes give off a quiet, almost brooding air. He's also muscular in a lean way from years of serving in the Alliance. In another life, he might have been a model.

"So…" she fishes for a topic, "how is being the second Spectre for humanity?"

Alenko laughs. "Like there's not much difference between that and what I was before." He runs a hand through his dark hair. "To be honest, I think it was all a political ploy on Udina's part. I certainly don't feel like someone so important."

"They wouldn't have give you the honour if they didn't think you were capable. Commander Shepard is also a Spectre," Traynor points out, "and you knew her before she was one. Was she incredible then?"

"Yes."

Well, that certainty doesn't help Traynor's argument.

Alenko shakes his head. "Everything I learned, I learned from her."

"That says a lot about you."

"But not enough. We're a world apart in terms of abilities."

"I'm sure time and experience will help cover the differences between them."

"Some things can't be made up."

Traynor has no idea how she ended up consoling the major. She should ask Shepard for a pay raise if she's going to be the crew's therapist too. How are therapists on the Normandy treated anyway?

Alenko pours her something out of a bottle. She starts to shake her head before stopping to accept the drink. This conversation is starting to feel like she could use it.

"Shepard seemed...upset when I ran into her outside."

"Yeah, I brought up some things I shouldn't have. I didn't realize—" He rests his forehead on his fingers. "Goddamn Cerberus."

Traynor shifts in her seat. Alenko goes on before she can say something.

"I'm not Shepard. I can't do what she does." He closes his eyes and rest his glass against his face. "She saved billions of lives, destroyed the Collectors, and made so many allies in unlikely places. She preserved a race. She united galactic forces and cured the Genophage. I was a guard dog for the Council members while Cerberus was taking over the Citadel.

"I didn't even realize how desperate Udina was until I almost let the Council be delivered into Cerberus' hands. Shepard would have never allowed that to happen." He smiles. He looks so sad.

"That's just the alcohol talking." Traynor hopes it's true. "We probably should get you to bed—"

Alenko is not listening. Despite his well-spoken manner and attractive features, Traynor doesn't think she would be attracted to him if she could be.

His eyes have the look of a man who watched life pass him by.

Traynor steals a glance at the major. He seems quite inebriated. He probably won't remember if she prods him for a few responses, right?

Her ethical standards are slipping the more time she spends on the Normandy. God help her.

"What about you and the commander? I've heard from someone that there might have been something there." Traynor asks slowly. Alenko turns red. He turns away and fiddles with his glass.

"That is…uh…that is." Alenko says as a slow, deep flush rises up his face. "There's n-nothing there."

…that sounds so convincing.

"I'm serious. Shepard and I…" He drops his head for a long moment. "We're just friends." He speaks quietly, slowly. It sounds as if each word is grinding him down from the inside.

"Do you have feelings for the commander?" Traynor can't stop the question from coming out.

Alenko turns redder if possible. "This isn't an appropriate question to ask your superior officer, Specialist."

"I apologize. It was nosy of me and—" Is that a yes? "—I promise not to pry into your affairs in the future."

Alenko hesitates. "I might have been a bit harsh. I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

He takes a deep breath. "I do. It's as simple as that."

Traynor doesn't reply. Alenko goes on.

"She doesn't know. Or if she does know, she's being…" He shakes his head. "Sorry, I must be presenting such a sorry image of the second human Spectre."

Despite her own feelings, Traynor reaches out to touch him on the forearm. "You don't have to apologize for being human."

"Being human isn't enough for this war."

That much is apparent each day.

"Shepard is an amazing person. She's full of drive, and she pulls you with her in her wake. She pushes you to be better than you are, and you do. You become someone you never imagined you could be just by following her. She's amazing, she takes crazy risks, and they work. She's an one-in-a-trillion individual.

But there's no room in her life for anything but her missions. She'll do amazing things and she'll go even farther than she already has, but Shepard doesn't have time in her life to sustain what will make her happy. I saw as much with Li—" He glances at her. "With her relationship three years ago."

He takes a deep breath. "I care for Shepard. I know that we may never be together, that it would never work out, but I want to be with her anyway." His eyes look wistful. "I want to stay by her side.

"Sad, isn't it?"

No.

Traynor completely understands.

"How does she feel about you?"

Alenko shakes his head. "You know Shepard. She's good at not letting people see what's inside. But I don't care. I'm not letting her leave me behind again."

He pours himself another shot of whiskey. He goes silent for a long while.

Traynor wonders if it's a sign for her to leave when he continues.

"It's funny. Sometimes, you have to nearly die yourself to realize where your priorities lay. You get a silly crush on someone you admire and respect, but you stay quiet about it because you're afraid of looking insubordinate. When she finds someone, you still stay quiet, because leaving her feels worse than watching her be with someone else.

"She pulls feats you didn't think could be done, and you're in awe of her force and effectiveness. You were captivated that despite the horror of it all, she remained herself and never compromised her morals. And when she was gone, you were suddenly reminded that she was human too. Then, you spend the next two years dreaming of a woman who's already died."

He shakes his head. "But she comes back. So, what do you do? You drive her away, because you're afraid that you're still dreaming and when you wake up, she'll be gone once again, along with your hopes and your dreams above Alchera." He chuckles. "What a fool you were."

"The commander may not return your feelings—" Traynor stops. She realizes it doesn't only apply to the major.

"It doesn't matter. I won't leave her again!" He slams the glass against the table's surface. It cracks. Alenko is too drunk, and he realizes it.

He stands up. "I'm sorry. I better get some sleep." He walks towards the doors and looks back. "I appreciate you listening to me. The commander is lucky to have someone like you on board to talk to." The doors hiss shut after him.

Traynor is alone, feeling disquiet and unease.

"EDI, what do you think?" she asks quietly.

There is a pause. "I feel sympathy for Major Alenko. He seems to be carrying a burden that has never been resolved."

"And what do you think I should do?"

"I think you should go to bed." EDI's tone is kind. It makes Traynor feel worse. "Most humans forget inebriated conversations by morning, so do not worry that Major Alenko will recall this."

"That's not what I'm concerned about," Traynor mumbles. She trudges her way towards the sleeping quarters. Her body feels too heavy, her bed feels too hard, her stomach too twisted. She's sick beyond measure.

Liara's datapad lays at the bottom of her locker. She takes it out and pads her way to a place where it's silent.

The datapad is as quiet as the Starboard Observation Deck. The words blur underneath Traynor's fingers. She's not sure what she's looking for, but she scrolls through them repeatedly. Something breaks inside of her on the fourth try and she flings the datapad against the wall. She wrenches her fingers into her hair and stalks around the room. She can't figure it out. She can't figure Shepard out. She can't understand Liara. What is she supposed to do? How can she help either of them?

She picks up the datapad, looks at it, and nearly hurls it again. She's sick of riddles. She's sick of her ignorance. Traynor makes a quick decision and strolls out into the hall towards Liara's chambers. The answers have been too long in coming.

"Liara? It's me, Samantha. Are you awake?" She waits in front of the large steel doors. There is a pause before they open and she walks through.

Glyph zips up to her face. "Presence unrecognized. Searching data banks-"

Yeah, yeah.

She stalks past the info drone. Liara is standing at her console. She gives Traynor a weak smile. The bags around her eyes look deeper than before.

"Liara, what the hell is this about?" Traynor waves the datapad over her head. She knows she's being louder and angrier than is warranted. She can't bring herself to care at the moment.

Liara turns from her console and frowns. "I would think it is about Shepard's mother, as you asked."

"Yes, but it's such basic information that I'm almost offended you'd thought I wouldn't find it."

The asari picks at something on her sleeve. "Perhaps, the obvious is not as you might assume."

Traynor bites her lower lip. "Then enlighten me. What's so obvious that I missed it?"

Liara glances away. "Do you really not understand what I gave you?"

"Yes. I'm sorry that you must think me so stupid that I couldn't—"

"I do not think you are stupid," Liara almost snaps.

"Then why won't you tell me what you know?"

Liara's expression grows dark, and a dark flicker of energy brushes her shoulders. She turns away from Traynor and starts to walk away. "I gave you the means to understand the woman you are researching." Liara paces around her cabin. Tense does not begin to describe her posture. "How do you expect to comprehend the people you seek when you do not know their past? How do you expect to reach them when you do not understand what they have been through?" She crosses her arms and tilts her chin up. "How is Shepard?"

Traynor's jaw tighten. She steps closer. "What are you asking?"

Liara glances at her. "Maybe the commander knows the answer." Her expression is far from kind.

Traynor grabs Liara by the shoulders before she can think about it. The back of her mind is telling her this is a poor life decision. The look in Liara's eyes suggests that it might be a short one. Traynor goes on anyway. She's too close to answers to stop.

"What is up with Shepard? She's distraught to the point of being incoherent." A flash of Shepard's strange, disjointed smile darts into her thoughts. Traynor can't help the shudder that escapes.

"Shepard never took losing members of her crew very well." Her tone is brusque, but Traynor sees Liara dropping her eyes.

"That's not all Shepard lost," Traynor says. Liara's eyes flare at her words and a shimmering wave of biotic energy crawls over the specialist's hands. It's like being slapped by something cold and powerful like an unseen current. Traynor hangs on. Between the terror and anger, it's hard to remember that she has options like thinking first.

She asks, "What did Shepard forget?"

Liara tucks her chin to her throat. Her lips are compressed tightly together.

"What did—"

"Whom." Liara's voice comes out quiet. Far too much so. "It's whom Shepard has forgotten that haunts her."

Traynor opens her mouth to ask before closing it.

"Do you not want to know to whom I am referring?"

Traynor doesn't need to ask. She already knows by looking at Liara's expression. She wishes that she never brought any of it up.

"Do not pity me. I have made my peace with it long ago." Liara's tone is hard, but her face twists as she says the words. "For the most part, she remembers me as I was—the naive scientist with hopes of being the first to make a breakthrough on the Protheans for the first time in 5000 years. She does not recall how I changed as a result of being on the Normandy, of being with—" Liara cuts herself off. "You can imagine her shock when she saw me on Ilium."

"She cares for you still." Traynor remembers Shepard's expression when she talked about Liara in the hallway. It didn't seem like the commander forgot about the asari at all.

Liara shakes her head. "Shepard can recall some of the emotions but not the memories they are associated with or vice versa. Her memories are somewhat less whole than the commander believes them to be." She looks directly at the specialist. "She is not aware of the full extent of what she has forgotten."

"What else did Shepard forget?" Traynor swallows when Liara just looks at her. The next word barely comes out in a hushed whisper. "Whom?"

Liara doesn't reply. She turns to her console, types something, and hands Traynor a new datapad. The specialist scans the new information quickly. Her hands shake as she does so. She is shocked to find out that it seems to be a compilation of messages from Captain Hannah's inbox herself.

She looks at Liara to ask how she got this information but stops at the expression on the asari's face. She reads the emails instead.

* * *

_Captain Shepard,_

_I have only been under your daughter's command for a short time, but she posses quite a natural aptitude for leadership. Your concerns over her injuries are appreciated but unfounded. I can't disclose the extent of the commander's injuries, but rest assured that she is well and has already completed her first mission with Captain Anderson. I will, however, look after her in your stead for a temporary period of time, as you have requested. Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to keep her well and alive as long as I can help it._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Karin Chakwas_

_Senior Medical Officer, Normandy_

* * *

_Mother,_

_I have been cleared of all injuries, save for a really bad headache. Please stop inquiring after my health status. If I am severely harmed, you will be the first to know. Maybe Admiral Hackett will even email you himself in that case. _

_I'm approaching the Council with some critical news. I'm only telling you now because you'll find out anyway...somehow. Here's hoping that they will be reasonable and listen to us._

* * *

_Hannah,_

_I know we had quite a lot of combat experience together, but it seems rather unethical for me to disclose any critical information about your daughter's missions. All I can say that she's on the trail of something big, and I'll do everything in my power to help her succeed. You have my word, I promise you. Take care._

_-David Anderson_

* * *

_She did extremely well to be inducted into the Spectres. She launched our investigation into the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius and has been lauded for being the prime example for what a human can do. She'll contribute much to humanity yet._

_-David Anderson_

* * *

___Mother,_

___Yes, I have heard the concerns of the Alliance higher-ups. ____Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya and Officer Garrus Vakarian have proved themselves both on and off the battlefield as trustworthy and competent members of the Normandy's crew. _

___They stay on my ship._

* * *

_Yes, I was on Feros. Honestly, I don't know why I bother hiding my missions. However you do it, you always seem to find out where I was. I can't talk about the details, but the mission makes me wonder what I've gotten myself into. It all seems too big for a single person to scheme. It's almost like something older than you or I has been plotting these things since the beginning of time, and I get the feeling that everything is falling in place too easy. Maybe it's just paranoia setting in. I don't know. Mother, I feel like I'm in over my head._

* * *

_Yes, Mother, I'm still alive. Why do you keep asking that if you'll obviously know if I wasn't? What do you know about the Geth? There seems to be something signalling a large collection of them is gathering somewhere, and it worries me. One rogue Spectre can't do all this himself. There might be an invasion somewhere, and I want you to be ready tactically for it, which is why I'm telling you this. Not because of any other reason. Really. _

* * *

_Mother,_

_I hurt a friend badly. Noveria turned out to be a nightmare. Please call me when you have time. I don't know how to help her._

* * *

_Mother, _

_She says she's all right. I don't believe her. What I did to her isn't something that one can forget. But thank you for listening to me. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. It makes a difference that you believe that I am. _

* * *

_Hannah,_

_You know I can't disclose anything about your daughter's missions, but I've just received contact from her and she's currently returning from the Hoc System in Sentry Omega. She seems like she finally has good news to get the Council to listen to us._

_-David Anderson_

* * *

_Captain Shepard,_

_The council is displeased with your child's act of rebellion. Stealing an Alliance ship is subject to capital punishment, as you surely must know. It is in your best interests to convince Commander Shepard to return the Normandy as soon as possible since lighter sentences may be negotiated in that instance. Think of how her actions reflect on us all as a whole._

_From the office of:_

_Donnel Udina_

_Human Ambassador_

* * *

_Captain Shepard,_

_Your rude remarks are not helping your child's case. It is very unbecoming of such a high-ranking officer of the Alliance._

_From the office of:_

_Donnel Udina_

_Human Ambassador_

* * *

_Your comments to my last two emails have been noted and sent to the Alliance officials to be entered into your record. I can see where your daughter gets her behaviour from._

_From the office of:_

_Donnel Udina_

_Human Ambassador_

* * *

___[Return to Sender. Message blocked from Donnel Udina]_

* * *

___Mom,_

___You've probably heard that I stole an Alliance ship to chase Saren in the Terminus system. I can't deny it but please believe me that if I don't do this, many innocent people will die or become enslaved at Saren's will. But I might not come back from this. ____I'm sorry. I wished I wrote more. I wished I visited you more. I wished I had more time. I want to let you know that you are incredible, and I was lucky to have such an amazing role model when I was growing up, even if I didn't appreciate it then._

___I love you. Please think well of me, no matter what happens._

* * *

___All ships, return to the Citadel. The Normandy has requested help for a potential invasion, and we are damn well going to support them._

_-Admiral Hackett_

* * *

___She looks awkward with all those medals on her, doesn't she? Saviour of the Citadel is not a title to be given lightly. Be proud of her, Hannah. I am._

___-David Anderson_

* * *

___Mom, _

___I met a girl recently. Well, relatively recently. And girl is probably not the right word for it. She's an asari, and we hit it off really well. Next time we meet, I want you to meet her. I think you'd like her._

* * *

_Hannah Shepard, _

_For all your years of service and of your daughter's acts of heroism in saving the Citadel, I felt it best to contact you directly. _

_I'm sorry, but your child has been killed in action. __I cannot disclose too much information at the moment, as the investigation into this attack is still pending, but we are expending as many resources as we can to find out who attacked the Normandy. If there is anything I can do, please feel free to contact me directly. __The loss of your daughter will be felt dearly by the Alliance for years to come._

_-Steven Hackett_

* * *

Liara's voice is quiet.

"Shepard doesn't remember this."

* * *

**Author's Endnotes:** Another chapter finished. All comments and criticism appreciated, so let me know how you felt about it. Thanks for reading. Cheers!


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